


Stone Flesh

by Draconicmaw



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Amnesiac Yami, Dragonshipping, Gargoyle!Yami, Gargoyles, Joey is a dellinquent, M/M, Yami is a hoarder, but I guess that isn't too much of a change from canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draconicmaw/pseuds/Draconicmaw
Summary: They'd always said the old church was haunted. Joseph Wheeler doesn't believe in ghosts, so the rumors don't stop him from sneaking onto the premises with some spray paint under the cover of night.What he finds is definitely not a ghost.Since when could statues come to life?* Yet still, perhaps a trick of the darkness, that hard jaw twitched. Stone cracked along that stoic face, right over a colorless eye.And from within the fissure, red glowed into the night. Red, red eyes lurked beneath a prison of stone. *Ugh, I'm on this Dragonshipping stint. Bear with me. Also, the thought of Yami living in a gothic church is way too aesthetic, so it just… ends up in AUs. Soooo, gargoyle!Atem and Delinquent!Joey. Sooo, just regular ol' Joey, eh? *laughs in bad comedian*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: technically, only decorative waterspouts are “gargoyles”: all other similar statues with a less practical purpose are called “grotesques” or “bosses”. But, for the sake of simplicity, I will call them all gargoyles.

The last rays of sunlight stained the summer sky crimson. The dying sanguine rays washed over the rain-stained stone of the abandoned Catholic church. The serrated parapets cast their harsh shadows, and the numerous statues -- snarling sentinels, those -- lining the gothic ledges remained affixed in scarlet chiaroscuro. 

Fangs and arched wings and talons curling over stone. One faced directly west. Its strangely solemn face was cast in soft relief in the dying light of day. Colorless stone eyes watched lifelessly the sun sinking below the metropolitan horizon. Perhaps it was just a trick of the evening sun, but it seemed as though that gray chest lifted with breath, pulsed with life, as though those carved claws curled tighter around the pedestal that was its perch, as though those protectively arched wings unfurled higher to catch the last of those crimson rays. Yes, it seemed as though the wind -- stronger so high up amongst the holy spires -- ruffled that mane enshrined eternally in stone. 

Eventually, the remnants of day were only the faint red-violet smudges on the darkening horizon. The statues and parapets were entombed in the black, so thick here in this abandoned sector, where humans no longer dared to tread amongst the skeletal warehouses and desolate old homes. 

Yet still, perhaps a trick of the darkness, that hard jaw twitched. Stone cracked along that stoic face, right over a colorless eye. 

And from within the fissure, red glowed into the night. Red, red eyes lurked beneath a prison of stone. 

* * *

Joey walked up to the chain-link fence. It was rusted, nearly disintegrated, but it apparently did its job -- keeping foolish young bucks like him off the property.

He frowned up, up, up. The church spires seemed so high (so foreboding), when he was this close.

He gulped. He felt as though he were standing at the feet of a giant slumbering beast. 

He shook his head, elbowed the ragged backpack hanging from one shoulder. It was ridiculous. Just a bunch of stories to scare the local kids from wandering into a condemned building. Ghost stories. That pale revenants guarded the hallowed halls when the sun went away and the sky was dark. Locals of all ages told hushed stories of figures in the stained glass windows, of movement on the balconies and ledges. Of red eyes peering from the desolate blackness lurking within the derelict House of God.

Joey stared. Everything seemed still and silent, now. Perhaps eerily so.

He shook his head again, and he quickly tossed out of the way the blond hair that fell into his eyes.

He glanced back up to the chain link. It wasn’t like it was topped with barbed wire or anything. He might get a little dirty doing so, but he could climb right over the top. 

And Joey Wheeler wasn’t afraid of some rust stains. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of some stupid old church and some make-believe ghosts.

And so, he nimbly scaled the wobbly fence, dropped down onto the overgrown weeds on the other side. They were prickly and dry and crackled audibly beneath Joey’s weight. He stood from his crouch and didn’t bother to brush the dirt and little plant bits from his clothes. He shuffled closer. His pants legs caught on the weeds, but he only plodded on forward. 

Huh. He looked at the church again. He was right at its front door, now. He paused.

He could just tag the outside, and call it good enough.

But curiosity and bravado teased his ego. What would the gang say when he told them.

_ Hey, I went to that old church last night. _

_ What was it like on the inside? _

_ Nah man, I just stopped at the doorsteps. _

Pathetic.

And he genuinely wanted to know what it looked like on the inside. Joey’d never been in an old gothic-styled church before. 

He looked over his shoulder. The street behind him was empty as ever. He crept up to the once-grand double-doors. Right there at the entrance, hanging above, was a gargoyle. It was hideous, snarling, all fangs and horns and a curling tongue and curling bat wings.

Joey snorted. It seemed like an awfully… non-Christian way to ward off evil. LIke, it seemed more like something from ancient cultures that believed in talismans and spirits and ghoulish things that went bump in the night. Eh, who was he to judge, though? 

“‘S not like I’m a Christian, or anything,” he murmured to himself. 

He lifted a hand to check the door -- in all possibility, it could be locked or barricaded from the inside -- and frowned at his outstretched limb.

His fingers were shaking.

He scoffed at himself, and wrung out his hands -- and hopefully wrung out any jitters that might have remained in them.

He splayed a hand out on the warped, stained wood. And pushed. The door creaked open, all rusty hinges and heavy oak.

With one last look out at the street and the gargoyle that seemed to be staring at him with so much judgement in its featureless eyes, he stepped within.

* * *

High above, red eyes blinked, and the shadow-laden figure ducked into the yawning maw of a broken window.

* * *

“Wow,” Joey breathed. 

Faint moonlight slanted in from the windows. So many windows, a few broken in, but many intact, with their watercolor murals and fragmented figures. The pews were still lined up, neat and orderly and rotting, waiting for the devout to sit and worship once again. The smell of mildew and wet stone permeated the still air.

The sides of the room were lined with archways yawning into darkness. He looked up, to the vaulted ceilings, some thirty feet above, lined with decades of cobwebs. 

The place was untouched since its abandonment. Joey frowned. He expected that someone else would have already snuck in to tag the place, ghost stories or no. But the walls where only water-stained stone, unmarred by spray paint. Apparently, a certain Joey Wheeler was the only one brave enough to venture into the derelict church. 

Joey crouched, dug around in his backpack. He pulled his arm out, can in hand. He shook it, stood up, flashlight in his other hand. 

Now the only questions that remained was what to put and where to put it.

He trailed forward, switched on his flashlight, and skimmed over the room. The stark, shifting shadows cast by the blinding glow of the flashlight and the pillars of the arches were unsettling. The back of his neck prickled, but he kept moving forward, even as he twisted wildly to scan the church. 

When the light passed swiftly over one of the pews, Joey’s heart froze in his chest. A grayish figure lurked in the shadow of a pillar. He gasped, flashed the light back onto that spot. Nothing, there was nothing there. 

Still, his heart pounded wildly against his ribs, and a cold sweat rushed from his pores. 

“Just my imagination…” he whispered. “It’s just your imagination, Joey old pal.”

He nervously shook the can in his hand.

He passed the light over the altar, and he saw it again, but, it disappeared once more when he passed the light over it again.

He stumbled back a few steps, looked over his shoulder where the door was still parted.

“Who’s there?” he barked, wildly passing the light about the huge room in hopes of catching that figure in its path.

He own echo answered. 

“I know you’re in here,” he said loudly. “I don’t like being toyed with. Who’s there?”

A low growl from somewhere above. The light panned up, above the arches, where a walkway was shrouded in even more archways. 

Oh god, what if it was some sort of wild animal?

“You do not belong here, trespasser,” a deep voice hissed, and the air itself seemed to vibrate. 

Joey jumped, gasped. But still he couldn’t find the source. “And  _ you _ do? This place is condemned.  _ No one _ is supposed to be in here.”

Another growl, bestial and blood-curdling. “I will not let you desecrate this place.”

Joey quickly tucked the spray paint under his shirt. “What?”

“I sense your intentions,  _ defiler _ .” The last word was spat like filth from the tongue.

Joey could only freeze, trembling, when at last the light fell upon that figure. 

Grotesque and gray, red eyes glowing and refracting the light.

_ It was a monster _ .

It lunged, wings flaring, tail lashing. “ _ Leave! _ ” The bellow shook the windows in their frames.

Joey just barely stumbled back in time before deathly claws were carving into the pew that he had just been standing next to. He dropped the flashlight, and it rolled away, but still he saw that formidable silhouette as the beast whirled on bowed legs. A snarl, leonine, sent a terrible chill down Joey’s spine, and he continued scrambling back, even as monstrous feet advanced with the clacking of nails on stone.

Joey turned tail and ran, bolting through the open door and into the night. It took him the barest seconds to clamber over that rusted fence and drop onto the sidewalk on the other side.

It wasn’t until he ran himself breathless, coughing, blocks and blocks away from that dastardly place, that he realized that he forgot his backpack.

* * *

From the east, tongues of fire licked over the horizon. Yet still, the beast crouched, facing the last of the night in the west. Breaths slowed, muscles stilled.

When the first rays of sunlight graced the stone of the church, red eyes faded to gray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to cut it off here and see how you guys like it. (I love having AO3 users as my test subjects: you’re all so vocal and helpful! :3) I definitely plan on writing more, but is this a good start or is there something missing? I’m all ears, so let me know!  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey revisits the church in the light of day to investigate, and makes a surprising discovery.

Every time he closed his eyes, he only saw glowing red, hot brands in the dark. A flash of claws, flaring wings and a lashing tail. God, it felt like a dream.

It _should’ve_ been a dream. A nightmare, from which he’d wake kicking and gasping in the sheets of his bed.

But no. The rust and the dust and the dirt and the grime on his clothes spoke differently. The dead bits of plants on his jeans and stuck to his socks. The missing flashlight, the missing backpack. Joey gritted his teeth. It’d taken him forever to save up and get all of those cans of spray paint.

He sighed, swiped a hand over his face. Whatever. He’d just have to get new ones. No way in hell he was going to back to that fucking place.

* * *

The weekend was over, and the normalcy of high school felt so incredibly… surreal. Dreamlike. A world where Joey Wheeler hadn’t been accosted by a demon in a church.

He frowned at himself, tapped a finger on his chin, resting in his palm as he frowned ahead.

Had he?

Though his backpack was missing and his clothes dirtied, Joey still questioned his sanity. Maybe he was going crazy.

He blew out his cheeks.

He wouldn’t be surprised; after all, mental illness ran in the family. He slumped in his seat, rested his forehead on his arms.

“Mr. Wheeler! What have I told you about dozing off in my class!?” the instructor, Mr. Abbrams, barked.

Joey lifted his chin up and put it on his forearm. “I’m not dozin’ off. I’m thinkin’.” Though he wouldn’t blame Mr. Abbrams for believing so; Joey found economics to be the most boring subject he’d ever taken – and that was comparing it to earth science – so it wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d fallen asleep during class. (Joey couldn't be more thankful that summer break would start in a few weeks: no more economics!)

“And just what are you thinking about? It better be economics.”

Joey sat up a little straighter, rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t fazed at all by the eyes of every student in the class on him. “Well, to be honest, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout mental illness.” He looked up to the ceiling for a moment, thinking fast and hard. “But I guess it does have somethin’ to do with economics. Like, all the meds and sh— stuff they have for disorders and whatnot, and then the cost of therapy, and all the people who have jobs as shrinks. I mean, what would happen to our economy if everybody just stopped believin’ in mental illness or mental wellness altogether?”

Mr. Abbrams frowned at him, eyebrows raised.

Joey shrugged. Leaned back in his seat. "I mean, if there's no more demand, what are the suppliers gonna do?"

Mr. Abbrams took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I hate to admit it, but Joseph brings up a good point."

" _Joey_ ," Joey grumbled in response, but it was overshadowed by the collective chuckle in the class.

"When goods or services become obsolete – or even fall out of style – what do suppliers do? Many may try anything to make their products _relevant_ again, but most don't meet much success…"

Joey sighed, fidgeted with his pencil.

Like nothing happened.

* * *

"You okay, Joe?"

Joey nearly jumped out of his skin. "Huh?"

Yugi laughed, head tilted, purple eyes blinking. "Like that. You're super jumpy today."

Suddenly, concern crossed over that face like clouds in the sky before a storm.

Joey gulped. Oh no. Not mother-hen Yugi.

"Did…" Yugi came closer, his voice lower. "Did something _happen_?" Dark brows furrowed. "Did your father…?"

Joey lurched back. "No! No… not… not this time, Yug'." He grimaced, rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks…? I guess, for the concern and all, but, nah, I'm fine."

The furrow smoothed out. “Okay, good.” But still that aching sincerity. Yugi didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve – he wore it in those bright eyes. “I mean, if you ever need to talk, I’m right here, Joey.”

_I’m not going to push the issue, but I’m willing to listen any time. You can count on that._

Joey looked away, rubbed the back of his neck. Yugi was saint, and…

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, Yug’. Thanks a lot. But I’m fine.” He gave that sheepish grin.

Yugi frowned at him, but Joey was already walking down the hall. “Hey! Wait for me!”

“Not my fault your shrimpy legs can’t keep up!”

“Ha ha _ha_. Very funny!”

“I thought so!”

And even though Joey laughed, he couldn’t stop thinking about flashing red eyes.

* * *

After the last bell rang, Joey didn’t walk home. He didn’t walk to go hang out with the gang. He didn’t walk to go to Yugi’s house. He didn’t walk to go to Tristan’s work.

All he knew was that he had walked out of school, and then suddenly he was _there_.

The serrated parapets and eroding statues seemed far less threatening in broad daylight. In all truth, the place was _pathetic_. It seemed only superior architecture kept the place from falling apart at the seams.

Joey took a deep breath.

He’d said he’d never go back.

Yet here he was.

He growled at himself, and then suddenly he was scaling the fence after a brief glance over each shoulder. He dropped down onto the weeds, and, once again checking the street behind him, slowly crept up to the discolored wooden doors of the abandoned church. They were closed again. Though he had been sure he’d left it open when he’d fled. He glared at the statue perched over the door.

He pushed the door opening, and felt a sense of Deja vu wash over him at the creaking groan it emitted.

When he saw the inside of the church, bathing in daylight, he surprised himself: he remembered something Mrs. Cooley, his world history teacher, had said long ago:

 _"While many people hear the word "gothic" and think of black, gothic architecture was designed to_ **let the light in**. _"_

Let the light in, it did. From all the innumerable windows poured in daylight. The floors and pews and walls were dappled in multi-colored light from the stained-glass windows. Even in this decrepit state, the interior of the church gleamed with a surreal beauty to rival the sinister grotesqueness of the statues guarding the exterior.

With sudden clarity, Joey understood why people would want to worship here.

He shook the thought away. He looked over his shoulder again, then stepped inside.

His body ached, he was so tense. He anxiously whipped he head around, but with the natural illumination of the sun, all the dark corners of the nave were easily visible.

No monster lurked here.

Joey's shoulders sagged, his lips pursed, but still he ventured farther down the aisle. His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty stillness. He decided to scrutinize the floor.

He could at least look for his backpack: that was what he told himself that he came here for.

He should've dropped it right… "Here."

He stopped, crouched down. "Here…" he murmured. Maybe it got kicked under the pews?

He ducked lower, cheek all but pressed to the stone floor.

Not under these ones. He crawled up the aisle, looked underneath all the pews. His bag was gone, as was the flashlight. He sat back on his heels and scratched his head.

Did he… not leave it here after all?

He hadn't bothered to check at home; he'd been one-hundred-percent certain that he'd left it behind here. He sighed, the sound long and echoing in this massive room.

Maybe it _was_ all in his head.

Red eyes flashing, claws tearing through the air only to carve into a pew. He remembered the sound, that rough scrape that could've been his flesh rather than faded wood. Surely, it would have left a mark.

He jolted up, whipped around. He walked fast, inspected each of the long benches on one side of the aisle.

He reached halfway to the door, and then –

Joey gasped.

Four long scratches, spaced well apart. The claws that made them were huge. Halfway down, a gouge for a thumb started. They were deep, splintering the wood beneath.

He touched them, lips parted.

His heart quickened in his ribs.

"I _knew_ it."

And then he looked up wildly. Stood, whirled about.

Where was the monster?

But all was silent, all was still.

"What a bad guard," he muttered. It had known instantly when he had entered the other night; what was taking so long now?

He cautiously navigated the nave, and tried not to let the pretty tinted shadows of the windows distract him. An archway, hidden in the shadows flanking the pews, yawned deeper into the church. He cautiously peered through.

A stone stairwell. Each step was worn with age and use. The stairwell itself seemed narrow, nearly claustrophobic, and, against his better judgment, Joey began the climb. Spiraling up, up. He stopped a moment to frown at the walls. In the lights from the small cell windows he could see, just above his head on each side, stripes of worn stone corkscrewing along the bricks.

He touched his fingertips. Polished from being rubbed against, again and again. But why so high up?

And then he pictured it. That huge beast squeezing into the stairwell. While its body may fit well enough, those wings would brush against the walls.

Joey shivered, drew back. He hesitated before taking the next step…

But if Joey Wheeler had to be good at one thing, it was definitely making decisions he would probably regret at a later date.

And so, up he climbed.

* * *

The gallery looking out over the nave were empty of anything but stained-glass windows and a few decrepit benches. Joey walked out, leaned on the beautiful stone guardrail to look down on the pews below. He looked across. The other gallery was also empty.

"Huh," he said.

Why was such a beautiful place abandoned?

He sighed, shook his head, and returned to the stairwell to continue the ascent.

At the top of the stairs, a last archway. It was a small room, probably for maintenance, or storage or something. Joey couldn’t be sure. There were shelves lining all available space on the walls, though.

And on one of the shelves, a row of cans arranged by color.

His spray paints!

Joey stepped over, dragged the cans closer. His backpack sat on the floor and leaned against the shelves. He snatched it up, scooped all the cans up, and dumped them inside. It took only a few seconds for him to find his flashlight. It had been switched off.

Meanwhile, he saw all sorts of odds and ends and knick-knacks. A bicycle chime. He picked it up, gave it a few curious rings. It still worked. An empty lighter. A stripe of old, burnt-out camera film. A small toy car. A raggedy hairbrush. A stuffed horse with a back leg missing. A small, tarnished bell. A tiny bird’s nest. A haggard book or two.

And many more things, all neatly arranged.

“Huh. A neat-freak pack-rat. Never thought I’d say _that_ out loud,” he muttered as he slipped the flashlight into his backpack. He slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to leave when, but paused when he looked at the window at the other end of the room. It was covered by a blanket, grayed by the light of the sun. It moved, billowed and flapped slightly from the stiff summer breeze.

The window was open.

He cautiously moved closer, and carefully moved the blanket aside. The material was worn.

No, the window wasn’t open. It was broken.

The sill opened up to ledge housing several of the snarling statues littering the church’s exterior. They were eroded by wind and rain, their pointed edges worn round and smooth. He looked to his left.

And right there, was the monster.

He yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin, but it remained still.

Joey blinked, panting, heart racing away in his chest.

It was… just a statue…?

But completely unlike all the others. Where they were sanded by time, this one’s edges remained crisp, clean, defined. This one’s face was stunningly human (it was sans the strange puggish snouts and gaping, jagged maws). It had no horns, only defined brow ridges and a wild mane cascading around and down its shoulders and to the middle of its back. Some long pieces dangled along its smooth cheek and by its pointed, elegant jaw. Its arms, supported by shapely biceps, were set wide, the thick talons curled over the ledge, and its legs were tucked under it in a tight crouch. The muscular tail curled around to rest just in front of the clawed toes. Huge wings arched up, as if soaking in the rays of the sun.

And Joey could recognize the silhouette of those wings anywhere.

This was the beast that accosted him two nights ago, the monster that lurked his dreams and waking thoughts.

Was it… sleeping? Did it turn to stone when it slept?

Either way, it was totally defenseless right now.

Joey looked over his shoulder, searched the shelves for a hefty object. He could smash it…

And then he looked back at the creature’s face.

It wasn’t snarling, angry, evil. It was solemn, the tilt of its lips somehow… _sad_.

Joey wanted to punch himself.

_“You don’t belong here, trespasser.”_

It was just protecting its home. _Joey_ was the one in the wrong.

_“I will not let you desecrate this place.”_

He’d be pretty pissed, too, if someone broke into his house to put spray paint all over the inside.

It certainly didn’t deserve to be murdered in its sleep.

Joey nodded to himself, let the blanket fall back to where it was.

He dug around in his school backpack for pen and paper, scribbled a quick note, and left it under the bicycle chime on one of the shelves.

With one last look over his shoulder at the flapping blanket, Joey ducked through the archway and clomped down the stairs.

When he left, he made sure to shut the doors behind him.

* * *

_I’m sorry I broke into your house. Twice. I took my paint back, though. That shit’s expensive and I’m not letting you add it to your little hoard._

_\- J_

* * *

***bonus scene***

Two gray claws carefully parted the flap of the backpack. A snort, dust unsettling, and then the colorful cans were pawed out of the opening and rolling, clacking and clanking across the stone floor. The beast started, wings rustling and tail lashing. A furrowed gray brow ridge, and then the defined hand – disturbingly human, despite the thick talons – grasped at a metallic canister.

Shake it – the intruder had been shaking it – so the beast followed suit. The clicking inside the can echoed in the moonlit dark of the nave. Brow ridges lifted up, and the clawed hand brought the container to a pointed ear for another curious shake.

A grunt, the tip of a tail flicking with delighted curiosity.

The top was made with a different material than the rest.

A cap, the beast realized. It was twisted off with ginger fingers.

A hum, deep and resonating. A small nub. A clawed thumb curiously pressed it.

The beast snarled, hissed with pain and irritation when the liquid within sprayed directly into inquisitive red eyes. One hand swiping at an orange-stained face, the other whipped the can clear across the room. It bounced off stone brinks with a loud metallic clatter.

The beast growled. Infernal human contraptions.

Eyes watering and grumbling obscenities, the beast slunk away into the dark of the nave.

Later, near dawn, the beast came back, gathered up all the cans into the backpack, slung it over a gray shoulder, and carried it up to the roost.

Before the sun rose, the cans were arranged in a neat spectrum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m honestly writing this on a whim (life’s been shitty lately so I felt like treating myself by writing something fun and different), so this might actually end up having a major rework/rewrite later, but, still, I hope you’re enjoying it and any feedback at all is welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if my dialogue for Joey seems a bit different than previous chapters. I’m still getting used to writing him.

Thick gray claws held the paper delicately.

_I’m sorry I broke into your house. Twice. I took my paint back, though. That shit’s expensive and I’m not letting you add it to your little hoard._

_– J_

The beast snorted, and with the next inhale, the human’s scent washed into a sensitive nose.

The human had been there. His scent lingered over the beast’s belongings. He had touched them, but put them all, almost perfectly, back into place.

Gray lips twisted.

* * *

“Hey, Yug’, what do ya know about the church in the old industrial park?” Joey asked at lunch the next day.

Yugi blinked at him mid-bite. Then he was enthusiastically chewing and swallowing. “Well, what do you want to know?”

Joey shrugged and took a drink. “I dunno. Whatever ya know is fine.”

Yugi was nearly bouncing in his seat. “Well, it’s all authentic gothic architecture. The church was originally built in Europe, but they brought it over here brick-by-brick to build it.”

Joey frowned. He didn’t know that. “Seems like a big hassle. How did they even know how to put back together right?”

Yugi shrugged. “It apparently has some historical significance, but I couldn’t find much more on it.”

Joey chuckled and shook his head. Of course Yugi had done actual research. He _lived_ for this kind of shit.

Yugi opened his mouth to continue, then a strange look passed over his face. “Why do you wanna know?” Joey normally didn’t take interest in things like these.

Joey lifted a shoulder. “Just heard some people talkin’ about it. Guess I wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”

Yugi leaned forward, eyes glinting feverishly. “People say that it’s haunted. A priest had died there a couple decades ago, and people hypothesize that his spirit lives on to defend the church he once served.”

Well, what haunted the church certainly wasn’t a _priest_.

Joey leaned his temple on his knuckles and chewed on his straw. How did any of this relate to the gargoyle? He sighed through his nose.

Was it brought with the building when it was moved? Or did it simply make the church into its nest?

He tapped the mangled straw against his lips. Maybe both…? If that made any sense…

Yugi was still babbling, but Joey was lost in his own thoughts. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to investigate a little more.

* * *

He curled his fingers into the rusted chain link and looked over his shoulder. The streets were dark, spotted only by the few streetlights that weren’t broken, but still dim and flickering. He looked back up to the looming shadow of the church. He wondered if the beast was watching him, if those red eyes saw his every moment from within the shadows of broken windows and stone arches.

He shook his head, cursed his own stupidity and stubbornness. He couldn’t seem to stay from this place, even if he told himself over and over again that he wouldn’t return.

He scaled the fence. And marched right up to the doors.

Yeah, he could’ve done his investigation the “smart” way and looked up stuff about the church on the internet or actually just listened to Yugi’s answers to his questions…

Or he could ask the object of his curiosity itself.

He lifted a hand and thumped his fist on a battered door.

He frowned. For some reason, in his head, he imagined the sound of his knocking on the door would be echoing and grand, but instead it was dull and stagnant, as if the sound reflected the appearance of the material.

Silence followed, and Joey suddenly became so very aware of the racing of his heart.

The seconds ticked by, measured in heartbeats, and Joey sighed, shaky, relieved and disappointed. The beast hadn’t answered. Shoulders drooped and tensed, he turned –

– Just as a shadow was gracefully dropping from the ledge above.

Great wings spread momentarily, drowned Joey in their terrible shadows, then folded as the beast landed in neat crouch at the very top of the steps, blocking Joey’s path to escape. That long, muscular tail flexed and curled for balance, clawed toes and fingers spreading out on dirtied stone. Piercing, pulsing red eyes stared from beneath elegantly spurred brow ridges.

“You…” gray, shapely lips mouthed the word, and in the near-complete darkness, Joey still saw the flicker of sharp fangs. The voice that poured from within that powerful chest was so deep it resonated in Joey’s bones.

Joey shivered from where he had pressed himself back against the door. His head swam, and he worried for a moment that he would keel over. He gulped, and nearly couldn’t because of the sheer dryness of his mouth. “H-Hey.”

The flicking of the tail drew Joey’s attention, but he quickly set his gaze back on those glowing crimson eyes.

The beast didn’t reply, only stared, watched Joey’s every move.

Joey chuckled nervously. “I… uh… I got somethin’ for ya to add to… your, y’know, like, collection or whatever it is,” he blabbered, and he slowly let his bag down from his shoulder and dug into it with one hand. “I saw it in line at a convenience store. I’d gotten it for my little sister, but I decided that you’d like it more…”

With a shaking hand, he proffered the trinket.

It was mostly pink, but the part of interest was the green and white – it was a white flower in a pink pot, and a joyful expression was painted onto the flower’s center. It swayed back and forth energetically.

Long lashes, so crazy long for a gargoyle – for even a human, fluttered over red eyes, and the beast leaned in closer, wings lifting the slightest bit with interest.

"It… moves on its own…" the beast murmured, one hand poised for a tentative touch.

"Y-Yeah. It uh, it's powered by the sun," Joey said, watching those thick gray claws come closer and closer to his own hand.

Widening red eyes stayed latched onto the little dancing flower. "The sun…?"

Joey gulped. He'd been thinking of the beast in gender neutral terms, but now, once again in the flesh, _he_ was decidedly _masculine_. Even if his face was oddly… pretty.

"Yeah." Joey pointed to the little black rectangle on its front. "This little thingy right here absorbs light and turns it into electricity."

Those vivid eyes suddenly met Joey's own, and there was a breathless moment of stillness before the beast's claws delicately plucked up the little trinket. The beast carefully held it closer, and his muscular tail thumped on the ground in delight.

Then his eyes met Joey's again. "Thank you… 'J.'"

"'J'?" Joey repeated, confused, until – "Ohhhh! The letter. Nah, the name's Joey. Well, Joseph, but I prefer Joey."

"Joseph," he echoed, and Joey shivered. Said in that deep voice, his hated given name sounded grand and noble.

Joey scratched the back of his neck. "Well, uh, what's _your_ name, big dude?"

Brow ridges furrowed. And the beast suddenly stood from his crouch. Standing upright, even with his bowed legs and slight slouch (probably to compensate for the weight of his wings), he stood a full head taller than Joey.

Joey nervously backed up.

But the beast only stared, confused, lips parted as if it were about to say something. His tail lashed, and then his head tilted. Then the brow ridges lifted up. "I… I don't know."

"What?" Joey blurted. "Don't ya have a name?!"

A frustrated huff. "I do!" A frown. "I… don't remember it."

Joey blinked when the beast’s shadow flickered over him. They were still at the entrance. “Hey, can we, like, go inside to continue this?”

The beast started, wings rustling. “Ah… Yes, I suppose.”

Joey turned, hesitated only a moment to show his back to the creature that had tried to harm him not too long ago. Well, Joey would probably die whether or not his back was to the beast if it really wanted to kill him, anyway. But he opened the door anyway, held it open for the monster behind him. The beast stepped forward. He walked on his clawed forefeet, his steps strong and graceful, heels elevated. He reached up, touched the door himself as he crossed the threshold.

His arms were _built_. Those biceps were crazy defined.

Joey blushed at his own thoughts and tore his eyes away.

“Have ya just been around for so long that ya just… forgot it?” Joey asked, hands in his pockets, and he walked down the aisle to admire once again the stained glass behind the altar.

There was a moment of silence. “Yes, I have existed for a… long time. Though I can’t say with any certainty to the length of that time. But… no. It’s… it’s there. But held out of my reach,” the beast murmured.

Joey scratched his head and turned around. “Huh. Like when ya forget a word and it’s right at the tip of ya tongue but ya still can’t get it out.”

“Exactly!” the beast exclaimed, eyes shining emphatically, but then, startled by his own outburst, quickly composed himself.

"Huh." Joey shrugged a shoulder. "That's weird."

The beast settled, prowled over to a pew, touched the warped wooden backing. "Yes, weird."

Joey cleared his throat. "I'm… surprised ya didn't try ta, y'know, finish the job, when ya saw me."

The beast looked over his shoulder. His face was half-obscured by dark, wild hair. "'Finish the job'...?"

Joey mimed snarling and clawing.

The beast looked down to his other hand, where he held the little dancing flower. The tip of that gray tail curled and flicked. "Your intentions were different."

Joey frowned. "Huh?"

"I can sense it. What you wish to do," the beast explained quietly. "You weren't here to vandalize my home this time."

Joey chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. I thought this place was abandoned."

Those broad shoulders shifted with a sad sigh. "Perhaps it is." The beast turned back around. "Thank you again. As you've noticed, I collect objects that garner my interest." A gray thumb passed over the little pink plastic flower pot. "And this most certainly does."

"I'm glad ya like it, big guy."

A small half-smile. "You are a good man at heart, Joseph. I apologize for misjudging you."

"Aren't you a bit easy to bribe?" Joey said with a choked laugh and burning cheeks.

And the beast actually laughed at that, a low, deep, quiet rumble that resonated in the nerves of Joey’s spine. “Is that what this is? A bribe? Whatever for?”

Joey shrugged, knowing that his own witticisms were running out. “I dunno. I’m just curious, and I generally felt bad for what had gone down.”

The beast hummed, and the sound rippled between Joey’s ears. “You are far from the first human that I have driven off, but most certainly the first to ever return.” A thoughtful pause. “At least with good intentions.”

Joey rubbed the back of his neck again, thought with no small amount of guilt about his considering smashing the beast as he slept. Which reminded him…

“So ya turn to stone when ya sleep?” Joey asked.

The beast’s pursed lips moved a bit as he pondered the question. “I am not sure if it could be called ‘sleep,’ but, yes, I suppose so. When the sun rises, I recede into torpor, and when it sets I awaken.”

“Eh. Interestin’,” Joey muttered, rubbed his chin. “So, it’s impossible for ya to go out during the day.”

“Yes.”

Joey frowned. “That’s sad. Never being able to enjoy the sun, and the blue sky.”

When the beast’s face bared such raw emotion again, Joey was struck dumb. Truly, with the smooth, chiseled planes of his face wrought with such wistful sorrow, he did not look alive; he looked instead like some sculpture held behind bullet-proof glass and red rope. “I saw these things, once…” A soft breath. “At least, I _remember_ having seen them once. Long ago… Before…”

“Before what?”

That frustration. It tugged at Joey’s heart. “I… I don’t know. I don’t…” The beast held his forehead in his free hand. The pale gray of his claws contrasted starkly against blond bangs – washed silver by night – and wild dark locks. “I don’t remember.”

Joey shifted on his feet.

Getting answers wasn’t going to be as straightforward as he had thought it would be.

“Look, I _really_ want to ask ya more questions, but ya don’t owe me any answers, and it doesn’t seem like it’s much fun for ya, either," Joey said, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He shrugged, a little self-conscious.

The beast blinked at him.

"Uh… I get ya don't remember ya name, but, um, what should I call ya?" Joey asked, shoulders lifting a couple inches more.

That muscular chest lifted with a deep breath. "Long ago, a man gave me a new name until I could find my old one." An almost bow, with knees bending and wings tucking backwards.

"... You may call me Yami."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I'm just kind of playing around with the plot of this. If something seems off or disconnected, tell me. I will end up rewriting this in the future, and anything I can improve upon would be greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

The colors washed over the horizon in resplendent splashes of paint. The wind whispered into his ears and stroked his hair into dancing tendrils. The dunes gleamed red, red like rubies.

He blinked slowly. Rays of sunlight licked up, caressed the receding darkness of night into some molten thing that flowed over the sky.

The warmth finally touched him, fingers of red light tracing over his face, into his eyes. He moved to lift his hand up, to shield himself from that blinding brilliance, but he stared, frozen.

The bronze skin of his hand faded to a stone gray. The knuckles and joints warped, popping and expanding. And his nails grew into thick talons, sharp and horrible.

He gasped, stared at his gray palms. But then he couldn't move them.

He couldn't move his entire body.

And then his heart stilled.

He was frozen.

He was stone.

* * *

He gasped, pitching forward, and just barely dug his claws into the ledge before he could fall. He wrenched himself back up, panted, held his forehead in his hand.

Already, the images were fading, fading away into a blur of red and black and gray. He groaned, fangs bared in his frustration, tail curling and uncurling from tense coils.

Always slipping from his fingers, sand in the wind.

Sand in the wind…

Some thought, perhaps a memory, lurked, flirted with his fingertips before dancing away into the growing darkness of night.

He breathed quietly, inhaled the city air. Movement below caught his attention.

At this angle, he could only see blond hair and a garish green jacket on the steps to the church.

A ghost of a smile curled his gray lips.

"Joseph," he said quietly, and graceful, silent, he scaled the stone walls down, down to the ground.

* * *

Joey thumbed through the pages of his textbook. "Ugh." It was boring as hell. Which was generally why he didn't do his homework.

"Hello, Joseph," a deep, quiet voice said from above.

Joey looked up, a smile cracking across his face.

Bright red eyes stared from the ledge above. The long dark hair dangled like a waterfall, and Joey could see the strange wing-thumbs curled around the square edges of rain-stained stone.

"Hey there, Yami."

Yami's head cocked to the side. He seemed totally unphased by the awkward upside-down position. "What are you reading?"

Joey glanced back down to the book in his hands. With how poor the light was, he really _couldn't_ read it. "It's, uh, it's biology."

Yami hummed, intrigued. He dropped down, with the rustling of wings and the clicking of claws on stone. He approached Joey with cautious red eyes.

— it was hard to believe that such expressive eyes would turn to stone in daylight –

Joey smiled wider. "Ya wanna see?"

Gray lips parted. A slight but emphatic nod.

Joey gestured lazily. "Well, c'mere!"

Yami smiled then, wide, fangs showing. He crawled close – though still a foot away – and sat next to Joey on the step. He craned his neck curiously.

Joey frowned at him. His jeans made audible scuffs when he scooted closer. Yami started, wings rustling, but made no move to draw away. Warmth emanated from the gargoyle in a thick aura, and the way it seeped into his skin made Joey shiver. "Well, I dunno how much you'll see in the dark like this, but ya definitely ain't gonna see nuthin' from that far away."

Those red irises were even more intense this close. They were rimmed with a thick black ring: Yami's sclerae were hardly visible. Joey imagined an eagle with red eyes. "I see very well in the dark. And I see very well from a distance."

"Huh…" Joey said, and his eyes lingered on Yami's face even when the gargoyle turned his attention to the book. "Some eyes ya got."

Yami hummed in response, and his tail thumped on the stone behind them. His eyes flicked back to Joey's. "Open the book, Joseph."

"Oh! Yeah. Sorry." He flipped open the front cover. "So, uh, what do ya know 'bout biology?"

Yami leaned closer to look at the first page, though it was just a repeat of the title and some publisher's notes. "It means… the study of life."

"Well, yeah, but I mean the science stuff. This is just the title page." He flipped. "Table o' contents." He flipped more pages. "Some other shit that really isn't important or anythin'."

"I still want to read it," Yami insisted, but Joey flipped to the first chapter anyway.

"Well, let's talk about cells," Joey announced.

"Cells?" Yami repeated.

"Yeah, cells."

Yami hummed, and one gray claw traced the word on the page. "Cells. What are 'cells'?"

Joey scratched the back of his head. "Okay, so ya know how a body is made up of organs and everything, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, organs are made up of…" he grimaced, thinking. What was the next step supposed to be…? "Tissues…?"

"Tissues…" Yami echoed.

"Um, like, what ya organs are made out of. Like, say, um, fat and skin and yatta yatta yatta." He tugged on the flesh of his cheek for emphasis.

"Oh. I see. So are tissues made up of cells?"

"Exactly!" He nudged Yami's side with his elbow. That warmth bleed through his jacket and into his skin all the way to the bone. "We got a smart one here." He tapped the back of his own hand with one long finger. "Cells are what they call 'microscopic.' Ya can't see 'em with the naked eye."

Yami frowned. "Then how do we know that they even exist?"

"Good question. They discovered them with a microscope. Which is basically like a really powerful magnifying glass."

"And you can see them with a microscope…" and then Yami hummed.

Joey only had to flip to the next page to show him. “Like this picture, right here. These are cells under a microscope.”

“Fascinating.” Yami touched the page again.

“All living things are made out of cells,” Joey said. “Me, you, the trees, even some diseases.”

Yami looked at him, wide-eyed. “Even diseases are… literal living things?”

Joey nodded gravely. “Yes. Bacteria are very small living things. In fact, they are made up of a _single_ cell. And when bad ones get into the body, they can make ya sick.”

Yami’s tail swished behind them. “‘Bad’ ones, you say? That implies that there are good ones.”

Joey nodded again. “Some are in ya mouth or ya gut, and they help ya with digestion.”

Yami shook his head, amazed. “Where did you get this book and learn these things, Joseph? Are you a scientist?” Those crimson eyes seemed to grow wider at the prospect.

Joey laughed heartily at that. “Ah, no. I’m no scientist, Yam’. I got this book from my school. Everyone’s gotta take biology to graduate there.”

“Simply extraordinary,” Yami breathed. “How I envy you… Blessed with such knowledge. Must you pay to attend this school? It must surely be expensive.”

“More or less. The money that people pay the government – taxes, that’s what pays for public schooling. And everyone gets to attend until they reach a certain age or graduate.”

Such childlike, dreamy wonder on that chiseled gray face. It was suddenly hard to imagine Yami snarling with rage. “Amazing. So all children can obtain this knowledge.”

“Well, not all. There’re some places in the world where kids can’t go to school, or they don’t have a school, or other things.”

Yami frowned. “You are lucky then.” He looked up to the sky, leaned back on his palms. The position made the muscles on his bare chest even more prominent, and Joey quickly looked out to the empty streets. “There are children out there that do not know what they are made of. What makes them alive.” His voice was so quiet it was barely audible. “What makes them human.”

Joey frowned, looked down at the book in his hands. Some kids would never see a biology book in their entire lives. Hell, _any_ book.

Suddenly, the textbook in his hands felt a lot more precious.

“You said I, too, am made of cells,” Yami said.

“Yeah, probably. You’re alive. I mean, ya _gotta_ be made outta cells.”

“Am I alive like you, Joseph?” Yami said, turning his intense gaze onto Joey once again.

Joey inhaled slowly. “Okay, do ya mean, like, literally alive or are you askin’ some deep question? ‘Cuz I suck at philosophy.”

Yami chuckled quietly. “No, I mean it in the literal sense.”

Joey laughed a little, too. “Well, you’re _really_ warm. So, I’d take that as a sign that you’re alive. Ya got some sort of thing goin’ on in that body of yours.” He frowned. “Actually, I think they got a list somewhere ‘bout what makes somethin’ livin’ or not.”

“Is it in your book?” Yami asked, one long arm stretching to tap the pages of the aforementioned tome.

“Prolly.”

Together, they searched the book. Joey held his flashlight in one hand. “Ugh, it’s in that beginnin’ section. The part I skipped.”

Yami clucked sternly. “You should have let me read it, Joseph.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Joey squinted at the page. “Okay, so there are seven characteristics of life. Uh, number one, ‘responsiveness to environment.’” He looked up to Yami. “I think ya got that one covered.”

“Agreed.” Yami replied.

“Two, ‘growth and change.’”

“My hair grows, as do my nails.”

“Two for seven, Yam’. Three, ‘have a metabolism and breathe.’” Joey lifted a shoulder. “Well, you’re warm, which means ya got a _somethin’_ , and you’re breathin' right now. Four, ‘being made of cells.’” He glanced back over to the gargoyle sitting next to him. “Do ya bleed and scab and heal and shit like that?”

Yami nodded. “Yes.”

“Then Imma bet you’re made of cells.”

Yami snorted. “Sounds like a safe bet.”

“Five, ‘able to maintain…’” he trailed off. “Um…”

Yami leaned forward, concerned. “What is it, Joseph?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Joey coughed. “Able to maintain… home… homeostasis,” his tongue tripped over the word, but he got it out in one piece.

“Homoeostasis?” Yami mumbled. “Same standing… the literal translation.”

“Oh!” Joey exclaimed. “I remember now. It’s where the body can like, stay the same, or mostly the same, to survive. Like, when you’re cold and ya shiver to stay warm.”

“For optimal performance, I suppose?” Yami pondered aloud.

"I'd say yeah, you can maintain homeostasis. I think breathin' is actually part of that or somethin'. Five for seven." He looked back down to the book. He froze, his cheeks hot. "Um, six, 'able to reproduce.'"

Yami snorted. Joey turned his head to stare at him.

"Y-Your face…!" He said beneath muffled laughs.

"Hey, shut up!" Joey shoved Yami's muscular shoulder.

The two took a couple of seconds to compose themselves.

"So uh, if there were any lady gargoyles… would ya, y'know…"

"Be able to copulate with one?" Yami supplied. "In theory, yes, I could, but it would be impossible to know if impregnation were possible without trying."

"Ookayyy. So we'll just say 'yes' for that one." Joey tapped his fingers on the book. 'In theory…' He shook his head as if it to shake the cobwebs from his brain. "Well, then the last one would be true, too. Seven, 'passes on traits to offspring.'"

"It does without saying," Yami murmured, "that if the previous were true, so would this be."

"Yeah. Seems a little…"

"Superfluous?"

"... Sure."

Yami hummed. "What a fascinating book."

Joey chuckled. "I'd let ya borrow it, but I need it for school tomorrow."

"You would let me borrow it?" Yami repeated, leaning forward.

Joey tried to gulp away the dryness in his mouth. "Yeah, buddy. I mean, ya seem to like it a lot." Joey frowned a moment. "We actually have a library full of books like this."

Yami blinked with awe. "An entire library…" he breathed. "Why are you not all scientists when you have access to resources like this?"

"Everythin' would go right to the shitter if everyone were a scientist. Some people need to do other things, like build houses and stuff like that. Grow food. The works."

"That's a valid point." Yami's tail curled, and he sighed wistfully. "I would be a scientist, if I were human."

"Ya'd make a good one, Yam'. You're a genius," Joey said. "I can tell just by how ya talk."

Yami frowned at him. "You, too, are intelligent. You know about cells and tissue."

Joey laughed. "No, I just _seem_ intelligent because _you_ don't know these things." He chuckled, shoulders puffed. "But it did feel good to teach ya somethin'."

A hot, clawed hand was suddenly on his forearm. Those crimson eyes were emphatic, fervent. Joey’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered in his chest. “I want you to teach me more, Joseph,” he said, deep voice deep and grave and tickling the nerves on the back of Joey’s neck. “Can you do that?”

Joey gulped, and he set a hand over the one on his arm. Yami’s skin was even hotter with direct contact, and it was so strangely smooth and silky. Joey couldn’t look away from that feverish gaze. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Yami smiled again, so wide and brilliant it was nearly blinding. His fanged grin was oddly adorable and heartwarming. “You mean it?”

Joey grinned back. “Yeah.”

“Thank you!” A gray tail lashed with delight, wings rustled excitedly.

Joey laughed, but suddenly the dark skies once again caught his attention. “Ah shit.”

“What is it?” Yami asked, freezing, concerned.

“It’s gettin’ pretty late. I should prolly head home. Got school tomorrow,” Joey explained. He reluctantly stood and stashed his book back into his backpack.

Yami lurched forward, and his huge hand wrapped around Joey’s wrist. “Will you come back tomorrow night?”

Joey smiled down at him. He was sure his grin looked goofy and dorky. “Of course, Yam’. You can plan on it.”

Yami stood as well, and when his looming shadow fell over Joey, he remembered suddenly that Yami was a hulking monster. A gentle, shy, curious hulking monster.

“If you return before the sun sets, feel free to let yourself in,” Yami said.

“Okay, will do!” Joey started down the steps. “See ya tomorrow!”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Yami called softly.

“Me too,” Joey whispered. Before he scaled the fence, he turned to wave over his shoulder, and froze. Yami wasn’t there anymore. He frowned, but then movement higher up caught his attention. Yami was scaling the stone bricks with all the ease of a gecko. He stopped at a ledge. Those red eyes, visible from even this distance, turned to him.

Yami waved back, and then he returned to his climbing.

Joey laughed, a little incredulous. Shaking his head, he clambered up the fence and landed on the other side.

As he walked away, he kept looking back. Each time, Yami’s figure was climbing higher, until he was almost perched on top of a cross-topped spire.

Joey realized, with a start, that Yami wanted to watch him go, watch Joey walk away until he wasn’t visible anymore, until the dark city streets swallowed him whole.

Laughing, giddy, he waved again, and he watched as that shrinking silhouette waved back.

* * *

Joey’s smile lasted all through the night, even in his sleep.

Perched languidly on a rain-stained ledge, Yami’s fanged grin glinted in the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, sorry about the impromptu biology lesson. It just sorta happened. Yami enjoyed it, though.  
> Again, I’m all ears if you have any feedback! See ya next time!


	5. Chapter 5

Joey gave each of his classmates a measured gaze as he ambled down the hallway. His eyes were heavy and surely marked by dark rings; he did, after all, go to bed a but late the night before. Though that was a more common occurrence than it probably should have been.

But his stare was more than that.

Yami's words from the night before echoed in his head like a deep, ringing knell. 

_ There are children out there that do not know what they are made of. What makes them alive. What makes them human. _

Lucky, fortunate, those were the words the gargoyle had used. They would learn things that other children would never know they never knew.

Or, at least, they  _ should  _ be learning these things.

How many times had Joey subtly napped in the middle of class? How many times had he stared out the window and daydreamed when he should have been listening? How many times had he doodled on his papers when he should have been taking notes? How many times had he simply not shown up at all when another less-fortunate kid could have taken his seat and actually learned something?

He remembered in vivid detail Yami's wistful sigh, that sad huff of breath,  _ I would be a scientist, if I were human. _

Joey frowned as he took his seat in class. 

He took it all for granted; in fact, he had loathed his duties as a student.

But the yearning in those shining red eyes had been more than evident. 

_ I want you to teach me more _ .

Yami would give up all the meager things he had to go to school as Joey did. Where Joey used to see it as a burden, he saw it in fraction as Yami had: a privilege. 

He swallowed hard and sank into his seat.

“Hey, Joe!” Yugi chirped.

Somehow, the kid was always a morning person.

Who was Joey kidding? Yugi was an all-day, every-day person. Twenty-four-seven cheerfulness. If scientists found a way to turn sheer positive energy into electricity, Yugi alone could power Domino City and a greater part of the tri-state area.

Joey chuckled. “Hey, Yug’.”

“So, we got in this new merchandise today. I was wondering if you wanted to stop by the shop and see it? Grandpa said you could stay the night, too, if you wanted?” Yugi began eagerly, violet eyes all but glowing with excitement. 

Joey’s mouth dropped open, but he quickly bit down on his reflexive acceptance. 

He’d already promised Yami he’d return to the church tonight. 

“Well, uh,” he rubbed the back on his head. “I can come after school, but I can’t stay too late.”

“Okay!” Yugi replied, happy enough with that response. “Plans after or something?”

“... Yeah.” Joey chuckled sheepishly. “Actually, I’m meeting up with a tutor later.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Goddamn Wheeler bigmouth. Should’ve just not said anything.

And, his stomach plummeted to his toes when Yugi’s dark eyebrows drew to the center of his forehead. “A tutor? What for?”

“Uhhh… Biology,” Joey replied.

“It’s a bit late in the year to be getting a tutor, Joey,” Yugi said, frowning at his friend. “I don’t think you can save your grade at this point. We don’t have too long until summer break.”

“I know, I know,” Joey muttered. “But, hey, with the grade I’m gettin’, I’m probably gonna hafta take summer school, anyway, and that includes biology class. Might as well do it right the first time.”

Yugi shook his head and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “Should’ve done it right the  _ first  _ time.”

Not that Joey could argue with that.

“Why are you meeting him so late?”

Joey resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “Uh, he works at night. So, it’s like the only time our schedules line up.”

Yugi nodded, seemingly appeased with that particular answer. Though it seemed he was far from done with his little interrogation. “What does he do?”

Joey sucked on his lips and released them with a pop. “Security guard.” He really hated lying to Yugi, but, if Yugi kept asking questions, he’d have to tell more. And it wasn’t like he could tell Yugi the truth.

“Where?” Like that. Damn Yugi and his inquisitive mind. Joey couldn’t imagine what the other boy had been like as a little tike.

“Museum.”

“Oh. I guess he probably picked some stuff up from working there, then.”

“Yeah.” Sure. No. Yami didn’t know jack diddly squat about modern biology.

But was Joey really lying about everything? Yami was, after all, helping Joey learn simply by being a willing student. 

Joey shrugged it off. He’d worry about it all at a later date. For now, Yugi’s curiosity was satisfied, and class was about to start.

For once, Joey filled in the guided notes.

* * *

“Did you hear, Tristan?” Yugi said as soon as they sat down for lunch. Joey tucked his tongue into his cheek and hoped Yugi wasn’t bringing up what Joey thought he was brining up.

“About what?”

“Joe’s got a tutor!”

Sonuvabitch!

“What? Isn’t it a little late in the year to be getting a tutor? Summer break is starting soon,” their friend said, staring at Joey like he just grew an extra couple of heads and started juggling grenades while riding a unicycle.

Joey sighed, palming his exasperated face. “I know. Yugi was goin’ on about this earlier. And my answer is the same; Imma be goin’ to summer school anyway, why not do it right the second time around?”

Tristan snorted at him. “Why don’t you do it right the  _ first time  _ around?”

“That’s what I said!” Yugi exclaimed, hopping a bit in his seat. 

Another tray landed on their table with some considerable clatter. “What’s going on?” Tea asked, arching her eyebrow at the energy Yugi was exuding at the moment.

“Joey’s got a tutor,” Tristan announced to her.

“Isn’t it a little late in the year to get a tutor? Especially for  _ your _ horrible grades,” she said with no small amount of snark as she pulled out her chair and sat down.

Joey groaned like a dying animal and wished a train would somehow burst through the cafeteria and crush them all, including himself. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be getting a tutor?” was surely a line that would recur in his nightmares years from now.

* * *

Joey breathed out slowly. School was even harder when he was actually paying attention, but at least time went by faster. His head felt full and it was a little overwhelming. Did learning always feel like someone was filling your head with cotton via pressure hose? He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

Yugi was walking next to him. He was walking cautiously across the ledge that separated the sidewalk from an elevated parking lot. “What is he like?”

Joey frowned at him. “What?”

“Your tutor. What is he like?” His arms were held out to each side, wobbling this way and that as he tried to maintain his balance.

“Well, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck and stared ahead thoughtfully. How could he describe Yami without telling Yugi about all the scary monster parts? “He’s a collector.”

Yugi hopped off the ledge immediately and practically bounced up to Joey. “What does he collect?”

“Oh, just odd an’ end things. Nothin’ in particular.” Joey tapped a finger on his chin. “He’s really smart. He’s got a crazy sharp learnin’curve.”

“Well, I guessed he’d be smart, if he’s going to tutor you,” Yugi remarked playfully. 

Joey just rolled his eyes. Yugi wasn’t cruel enough to say,  _ although it doesn’t take much to be smarter than you _ , like Tristan or that bastard Kaiba would. Though Tristan would mean it in a more teasing manner.

“He’s really nice, too, once ya get to know ‘im. We started out on the wrong foot --”

“-- You start out on the wrong foot with  _ everybody _ , Joe --”

“-- but things seem pretty chill, now.” He whipped his head over to glare at his smirking friend. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Yugi lifted his shoulders and grinned in that cute way that normally got him out of trouble. “It means just what I said. You start out on the wrong foot with everybody. That’s just how you make friends. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Joey pursed his lips. “Yeah, okay.” He couldn’t really deny that. Almost all of his closest friends now had started out as enemies. Or people he used to pick on. Like Yugi.

“Anyways, you were saying?”

Joey breathed out slowly. “Yeah, he seems pretty nice, was what I was sayin’.”

“Well, that’s good. Will I get to meet him someday?” Yugi asked with those big eyes blinking innocently.

“I dunno, Yug’,” Joey answered, genuinely. He didn’t know if that would be possible. There was no telling what would happen if the secret of Yami’s existence got out. 

“Well, what’s his name, at least?” 

“Yami,” he replied easily. He could share that much, at least.

“Yami?” Yugi stared at him confoundedly. “That’s his real name?”

“Nickname,” Joey clarified. “I mean, why couldn’t it be his real name, though?”

Yugi shrugged. “Well, I mean, it could be, but I don’t know any sane parent who would name their child ‘Dark,’ you know?”

“Huh. Japanese, then?” Yugi’s paternal grandparents were Japanese immigrants. He’d picked some up from them, though he claimed to be hardly fluent. Which Joey took with a grain of salt -- Yugi was too humble to claim proficiency in anything other than games.

“Yup,” and Yugi popped the ‘p.’

Joey shrugged. “I guess it was a nickname someone gave him and he’s just been goin’ by that ever since.” But it made him wonder; did Yami know what his name meant? He could always ask. He tried to make a mental note of it, but he was sure he would forget anyways -- his head was already chocked full of school stuff for the day.

* * *

He stayed at Yugi’s for dinner, and actually managed to do more homework than normal. Yugi had to help him with most of it, since he had little prior knowledge thanks to dicking around for most of his high school career thus far. It was nearing dusk when he finally disembarked for his journey to the abandoned church.

He didn’t notice his little skip, the pep in his step. All he knew was that he was excited to meet up his gargoyle friend again. 

Before long, he was scaling that chain link fence and dropping gracefully on the other side. In the half-light of the evening, the towering gray stone was washed a summery gold. Joey stood a moment to take it all in. Cast in bright, fading gold light and cold blue shadow, the church was absolutely stunning. Even the grotesque statues had a strange sort of beauty at that moment. 

Shaking his head, he continued on, and paused at the steps.

_ If you return before the sun sets, feel free to let yourself in. _

His ratty sneakers whapped softly on the smooth stone, and he pressed the doors open, and closed them immediately behind him. 

Of course, the outside of the church was once again no match against its interior. Dust motes floated freely, illuminated by that pouring summer sunlight, stained all sorts of colors by the kaleidoscope windows. “Wow,” he said softly, watching how the sun beams caught on the flared stone of the arches and on the smooth concave planes of the columns. High above, the serene faces of marble angels half-smiled in the sun’s soft golden fire.

Again, he was baffled. Why was this beautiful place abandoned?

He shook his head again, his shaggy blond hair brushing his face and neck, and set his backpack on a pew. 

It was dead silent in there, and Joey could hear his own breathing in unsettling detail.

When would Yami awaken?

Joey frowned. Yami said he was welcome inside the church now, but did that mean he was welcome up in Yami’s store room?

He shrugged. Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, he’d always thought. And so, he turned away, into the half-shadowed aisle along the side of the nave and ascended the stone stairs. He traced his hand along the wall, and watched the passing glow of the cell windows. He walked right past the archway to the gallery and continued his ascent. Then, he was walking into that shelved room. Up here, the wind was much stronger today, and the blanket covering the window should’ve been flapping loudly, but, instead, Joey noticed that it was fastened from the outside to keep it mostly sealed. 

He approached and carefully lifted it up, and peered out. The light nearly blinded him -- the window was facing the west, right toward the setting sun. The meager shadow of his hand was enough, and he looked to his right on the ledge.

Sure enough, there was Yami. Still as the dead, wreathed in stone. His elegant features were made all the more angelic by the now golden-red light of evening, and his wild hair was cast half in warm light and half in cold shadow. The lines of his stone muscle were all the clearer, the folds of his large loincloth strangely beautiful.

_ Okay, weird thoughts _ . Joey looked away, back towards the sun. It was becoming obscured by the buildings, but still it was there, shining on them. He looked back toward Yami. His lips looked softer, the corners tugged up from that wistful frown Joey had seen the other day. He looked… happier, relaxed. Joey carefully edged forward, palms on the ledge. He cautiously sat and drew his legs up to join the rest of his body. He forced himself not to look down; he’d surely puke, but there was more than enough space for him to sit and not worry about falling. He watched the partial sunset, and occasionally glanced at his slumbering companion.

Was it creepy to watch Yami as he slept?

Probably. But it was far too interesting to watch how the ever-changing tones of light brought attention to different parts of Yami’s statuesque form. 

But then he noticed something.

Yami’s chest was… moving. Expanding, contracting. Slowly, but it was there, because the shadows on him moved each time. Joey held his breath, and watched closer. As the light faded, the motions became more obvious.

The statue at Joey’s side was  _ breathing _ , and Joey was holding his own breath, and, surely enough, just under the sound of the wind, he could hear it gently passing in and out of Yami’s nostrils. Those huge, thick claws and the firm hands they were attached to seemed to flex, slowly,  _ slowly _ , like a frame-by-frame video from a high resolution camera. The tail, gracefully curled in front of the clawed, yet strangely aesthetic feet seemed to be slowly drawing outwards, the wings rising with each breath but yet arching higher, as if to chase the fading rays of the sun.

Joey wasn’t paying anymore attention to the horizon. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the process happening right in front of him.

But before he knew it, it was almost too dark for him to see anything more.  _ Almost _ . 

But he heard it first.

_ Crack _

Almost reminiscent of breaking an egg. And then more, more, cracking and crackling and the pattering of thin stone bits falling to the ledge. Louder, as those motions of life were suddenly greater in size, that muscular chest expanding with a great gasp. And then fractures were spiderwebbing across that face, red glowing from beneath the crumbling stone.

A long growl, wings stretching, back arching, more and more stony gray breaking away to reveal the somehow more lively gray flesh beneath. The tail was pulled into a tense curl, and then it lashed, nearly knocking into Joey if he hadn’t moved aside fast enough. The wings flapped, hard, just once, and this time it did knock Joey, lightly battering his side where he was huddling next to the statue on the other side of the window.

Yami shook the thin stone shell off of him like a dog shakes off water, and groaned, that happy groan when muscles were stretched just right. And he was rocking back onto his heels -- if that was what they were even called, since he didn’t walk on them -- wings folding, and his wide red eyes turning to Joey.

“Joseph?”

Joey gulped, smiled sheepishly. “The one and only.”

Yami smiled, long, thick canines gleaming in the swan song of dusk, though he still seemed a bit bewildered. “What are you doing up here?”

Joey rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, ya said I could come in, and I was a little curious about when exactly ya woke up, so…” he trailed off, extended a hand out as if to say  _ and here I am. _

“Ah, I see,” and then Yami’s confusion fell away, and he simply looked happy to see Joey. “If I’d known you were up here, I would’ve been a little more careful.” His brow ridges rose a moment. “I think I hit you, but I’m not sure.”

“Ya did. S’okay, though. Kinda my fault. But, uh, you’re okay with me bein’ up here?”

“Yes,” Yami replied simply. “I know you mean me no harm.”

“Yeah, I don’t. But it was cool, watchin’ ya wake up and everythin’.” 

“Did you go to school today?” Yami asked, and it was obvious that he was trying to keep his energetic curiosity contained.

Joey laughed, though. With how that tail lashed with excitement, he could only think of a giant red-eyed puppy. “Yeah, I go to school Monday through Friday.”

Yami stilled, and those red eyes rolled up in thought.

Joey felt his eyebrows raise. “Do ya… do ya know the days of the week, Yami?”

“Of course,” he murmured. “I just haven’t kept track of the day of the week for a very long time. What day is today?”

“Thursday,” Joey supplied easily. 

“Ah.” Yami tipped his head to one side, his long, dark hair spilling off his toned shoulder. “Tomorrow is your last day of school for the week?”

“Yeah,” Joey murmured, sighing. “Thank god.”

A slow blink. “You do not like school?”

Joey’s shoulders raised, almost to his ears. “Um… No, not really.”

Yami’s face hardly changed, except perhaps a twitch of his brow and his lips pursing the slightest bit. He hummed, short, and Joey felt his face get hot.

“I’m not very good at it,” Joey mumbled.

“You are not good at learning?” Yami asked.

Scratching his eyebrow was somehow a good distraction from the inquisitive face in front of him. “I guess. I mean, like, we get scored on everythin’ we do, and… I just don’t get very high scores.” He rolled his shoulders again, awkward, not wanting to disappoint Yami after the gargoyle’s somber statements the night before. For being a hermit monster living in an abandoned church, Yami sure seemed to take education seriously. “I guess I just don’t pay good enough attention in class.”

Another grunt, and Joey chewed on his thumb nail. This was embarrassing, and in the ways he hated the most. Like that time last year when he accidentally spilt his drink on Sarah Thompson.

“What sort of things do you get scored on?” Yami asked.

“Well, uh, homework and tests and quizzes and stuff. Assignments.”

“You take work home to complete and bring it back to be scored?”

“Yeah. That’s why I brought that biology book home last night.”

“Did you finish it and bring it back to your preceptor?”

“My what?” Joey asked, finally meeting those intense red eyes again.

“Your instructor. Your teacher. Your mentor. Whatever you call the people who guide you in your learning,” Yami said, waving a clawed hand dismissively.

“Oh.” He leaned back against the statue behind him. It was hard and a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t really care much. “Yeah.” Inspired by Yami’s words of wisdom, he had rushed to finish it when he got home.

“Do you have more? Homework?” and those huge wings were lifting with interest.

“Ah, no,” and Joey felt bad when the wings sagged with disappointment. “But, uh, I did bring that book back. Ya know, so we could keep reading it together.”

And then Yami perked right back up again, and Joey couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What is so amusing, Joseph?” Yami asked, brows furrowing.

Joey shook his head. “You’re just strange, is all. I’ve never seen someone get so damn happy at the mention of homework.”

Yami drew back, eyes lowering, and Joey reached forward to set a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man. I didn’t mean anythin’ bad by it. It’s kinda cute, actually.”

But the hard muscle under his palm said anything but  _ cute _ . Joey quickly drew his hand away. 

“Sooo,” he said, exaggeratedly, and he jerked his head toward the window. “Wanna go learn with me?”

A lash of the tail, a rustling of wings. Those intense red eyes sparkled. “Of course, Joseph.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I find sculpted “fabric” to be so frickin’ interesting. Like, how they manage to get the folds carved to the point where, if I reached out and touched, it looks like it would fold beneath my hand just like clothing would. So I would probably creep on Yami by staring at his loincloth, too.   
> Hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you didn’t, tell me why. Your feedback is my sustenance! See ya next time!


	6. Chapter 6

"This, of course, is my favorite piece from my Egyptian collection," the portly man stated, waving a bejeweled hand at the statue. 

A tall man with spectacles scoffed. "Giles, you're not fooling anyone. Something like  _ that  _ cannot be from Egypt. Not ancient Egypt, at the very least."

Giles rolled his eyes. "Well, it was uncovered from Egyptian ruins that date back approximately fifteen-hundred B.C."

"That hardly means anything. They've 'uncovered' things like this before only to discover that they are, in fact, forgeries." He pushed at the bridge of his spectacles. "To me, this is more along the lines of a Gothic grotesque, not an Egyptian sentinel-statue." He hummed, eyes moving back to the piece in question. "Though, it is strangely human in the face and utterly massive."

Yes, the face was humanoid, but on those human features rested a snarl most feral,  _ evil _ , though that was not out of place on a Gothic grotesque. Horns curled from a wild mane of hair that spilled over broad shoulders and between two folded-yet flared wings, caught in a state of unbelievable tension. The musculature was amazingly anatomic for a statue from the Gothic era, and every edge and plane was still existing in vivid detail, untouched by the sands of time. Yes, it was a lean hulk of a grotesque, and the bespectacled man frowned at his wife, whose large eyes were scanning the flexing planes of muscle. And he coughed and muttered her name, and she started, a hand over her mouth.

"What detail…" she breathed. 

"Indeed. This is a forgery, either way, or a modern art piece mistaken for something ancient and historical."

Giles scowled at his companion. "Ever the skeptic. You said the same thing about that flute, and it turned out to be authentic!"

"Oh, you will never let that rest, will you?"

"No! I will not! You turn your nose up at every purchase I make, and I am sick of it!"

"... You know, it's only because I care about you, as your brother. I worry about how much you spend… I don't want what happened to Father to happen to you."

A sigh, and the small group meandered away, though the bespectacled man's wife get glancing back at that statue, coiled as if to pounce. 

"I know, I know. I've made what I decided to be my last purchase this morning. Apparently, its an amulet made of pure gold. It came from the same site that the statue supposedly did."

"Giles…"

"I know, I know. I  _ promise you  _ this one is authentic."

"Hmph. We'll see."

* * *

Being in the library for any protracted amount of time was very weird. Joey scratched his head and stared at the shelves upon shelves of books. He didn't even know where to start. How were the books even arranged?

He chewed his lip and contemplated just outright leaving. But with a deep breath, he firmed his resolve and stepped up to the desk, where Mr. Barnes, the school librarian, was currently glaring at his computer as if it had slept with his wife and fathered her baby. "Uh, hey," Joey began, very quietly, almost a whisper. 

Mr. Barnes jumped, gasping a little, and his bespectacled gaze landed on Joey. "Yes?"

"Hey. I was wonderin' if we have any books on… um…?" He looked down at his palm. There, his sloppy handwriting was scrawled in black and smeared with perspiration. "Cellular biology…?"

A blink, and Joey's cheeks got hot. "You do realize you could use the computer and look yourself?"

Joey bit his lip. Oh, yeah. Fucking computer databases. Joey shrugged a shoulder. "Sorry. I don't use the library very often." Frustrated and embarrassed, he stepped away.

"Young man," Mr. Barnes called softly, and Joey looked back. The man gestured toward an aisle. "The biology books are generally in those shelves. I couldn't tell you right off hand if we have any cellular biology books in stock."

"Oh. Thanks."

"No problem."

He drifted over, and he nearly slapped his forehead. The nonfiction books were sorted by subject and assigned a specific number. There was a name for it, but Joey couldn't remember it right off the top of his head. 

Though it was nagging at him, he put the problem away for now. He was a man on a mission. 

There were zoology books galore, and he occasionally pulled one out to look at the covers and skim the contents. "Yami would prolly find these interestin'," he muttered, but put each one in its respective place. Cellular biology. That was what he and Yami were learning about together right now. He wanted to find a cellular biology book. "Bingo!" He whispered. "Science of the Cell. Plain title, should work, though." He flipped through it. It even covered the basics of the atom, which he knew would just blow Yami's mind. He collected a few smaller ones, all of different reading levels. Yami may be a freakin' genius, but there was no telling how much of this modern terminology he would understand right off the back. 

Five books in hand, he ventured up to Mr. Barnes' desk.

"Uh… I'd like ta check these out," Joey said quietly.

"Five books?" Mr. Barnes asked, arching an eyebrow. "Most kids don't check out even one."

Joey smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been really interested in the subject, lately."

"Well, alright. I'm sure you could find all this information online," Mr. Barnes continued.

Joey frowned. What? Did the guy not want him to check out books or something? "Yeah, well, pickin' through Google feels like a waste of time when I got all that I need right here. I also don't have WiFi at home."

And no device to access it if he did have it, anyway.

Mr. Barnes hummed something, but he went to scanning and stamping in the books. "So you have your school ID, young man?"

"Yeah, just a moment," and he dug around for his wallet. "Here ya go."

Mr. Barnes scanned it, and then he slid the stack of books back over to Joey. "Mr. Wheeler, these books will be in your possession until two weeks from today. Each day after the due date, you will accrue a five cent fine for each book. That's twenty-five cents a day. It may not seem like much, but it really adds up over a long period of time. If you damage any of the books beyond reasonable repair, your student account will be charged for a replacement. In other words, treat these gently and bring them back on time, okay?"

Joey gulped, but nodded. "Gotcha. I'll take good care o' them."

"I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Wheeler."

"Oh, ya will," Joey scooped the books of and carefully slipped each of them into his book bag. It was otherwise empty -- he didn't have any homework for the day and left everything else in his locker. "I promise."

With a lazily wave over his shoulder and a broad grin, Joey stepped out of the library. 

Yami was going to be ecstatic.

* * *

As Yami resurfaced from torpor, he made sure to keep his wings under control and his tail from lashing too much. He stretched languidly, in a rather feline way, but when he tilted his head to glance to the side, Joseph was not there.

A frown pinched his lips, but he heard the rattling of chain link and quickly looked down.

Blond hair.

"Joseph." 

Yami leaned forward, felt gravity tug at him and grow stronger the farther he leaned out. And then he let go, claws unclenching.

For several seconds, he was in freefall, wings and legs tucked close, but then his great leathery limbs snapped open and caught air, yanking him up about a yard or so, but he instinctively adjusted for descent. Yet still, the ground approached quickly, and with extended limbs and a few powerful pumps of his wings, he was alighting amongst the weeds.

Joseph jumped, yelping, but quickly laughed upon seeing who it was that had descended from the sky. 

"Yami, ya scared the livin' shit outta me!" He said loudly, holding his stomach from his raucous laughter. 

"Pardon. I wanted to greet you. Gliding down from my roost was the most efficient way to do so."

"Makes sense." He shouldered his backpack. "Let's go inside," Joey suggested. "I've got a surprise for ya, Yami."

Yami grinned, and he couldn't help the way his tail flicked and curled excitedly. "Do you have homework, Joseph?"

The boy laughed. "No. Better. C'mon, I'll show ya." And he marched around Yami and up to the steps of the church.

Yami followed behind, and he tried to contain his enthusiasm, but he still ended up trotting, the claws on his feet clicking on the stone. Joseph sat on one of the steps leading up to the altar, and Yami sat down beside him.

"So, these aren't  _ mine _ , so ya gotta take care of them," Joseph began, taking his backpack off and unzipping it. Yami was craned curiously, eager to sneak a peek at whatever Joseph had brought him. 

_ Books _ .  _ Five _ books.

"Joseph…" Yami breathed. 

"Now, like I said, not mine, and I need them back fourteen days from now. That's the latest time I can get them back to the library without gettin' fined," Joseph explained.

Yami nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I understand." He met Joseph's gaze, and then looked down at the books. "Can I touch them?"

Joseph laughed, and Yami felt his cheeks get warm. "Yeah, o' course. That's why I brought them. Seems awfully borin' without me around here," he joked. 

Yami smiled. "It has become that way, yes." He playfully nudged Joseph with his elbow -- something the human boy had taught him, and carefully looked at each of the books in turn. He held them with the utmost care, as though they would crumble to dust if he so much as touched them the wrong way. "These are all on cellular biology…" he said quietly, though his tail thumped behind him. 

"Yeah, you seem to find it pretty fascinatin'." Joseph leaned in, and his hair brushed Yami's shoulder briefly. It was soft, Yami could already tell. "This one right here," Joseph said, tapping his forefinger on the cover, "even covers atoms. If you thought cells were crazy, just ya wait 'til ya read  _ this _ , Yam'."

"Atoms…?" Yami echoed. 

"Yeah," Joey grinned, made a motion as if he were twisting a key over his sealed lips. "I won't spoil it for ya, though. Ya gotta read it yourself."

Yami smiled down at Joseph. "You are a great friend, and a most admirable being. Your classmates are gifted to have you."

Joseph turned away, and Yami chuckled at the pink tinting his cheeks. "Aw, man, Yami. You're exaggeratin'."

"No, I'm sure I'm not. How many people do you know that would go out of his way to… entertain one such as me?" Yami nudged him again, this time with him wing, which startled Joseph into meeting his eyes again. "Especially considering how we first met."

Joseph lifted his shoulders nearly to his ears. "I… I guess…"

But Yami held his eyes firmly. "I do truly appreciate it, Joseph."

“It’s… uh… It’s my pleasure, Yam’,” Joseph replied quietly.

Before Yami knew it, he was reaching out, one claw gently pushing Joseph’s flaxen hair from his eyes. Joseph blinked, eyes widening, and Yami slowly drew his hand away, and turned his gaze to the books on his lap. “What one do you recommend starting with?” Yami asked, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. Strange. -- He had no idea where to begin, anyway, so it was an entirely valid question.

Joseph chuckled, rather sheepishly. “Well, I got books for different readin’ levels in case ya didn’t understand some of it. That way, you could like, advance through it, ya know?”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Yami said. Though his smile was small, it made his face ache. He was not sure if he had ever smiled this much before Joseph. 

Joseph didn’t say anything in return, and Yami was sure he was probably embarrassed at the praise. Did humans simply not praise one another anymore? Had that fallen out of practice? Or was Joseph alone unused to kind words?

The thoughts made Yami’s lip twitch, and not into a smile, and he snuck a glance back to his friend. Joseph was chewing on his lip, wringing his hands together as he watched Yami skim through each of the books in turn. 

Would it be rude to ask him such a question?  _ Do you not hear kind words, Joseph? _

Instead, Yami set the books aside and turned to his companion. “Is today your last day of school for the week?”

Those eyes, washed in the dappled moonlight pouring in through the windows, blinked widely for a moment. “Huh? Oh, yeah.”

Yami hummed. “Do you go to school all year?”

Joseph made a hissing sound, air sucked in through his teeth. “No. Sometimes we get time off for holidays, and generally, we get the summer off. Buuuut I don’t. Not this year,” and he shrunk into himself again. 

“Why?” Yami asked quietly, delicately. Joseph seemed most self-conscious about his academic performance.

“I… I’m basically fallin’ behind everyone else, so they are makin’ me stay for most of the summer to catch up.”

Yami hummed again, leaning back on his palms. “You have to catch up to graduate with the rest of your class,” he summed up.

“... Yeah.”

Yami looked at him, at that crestfallen face. “I’m certain you’ll do fine, Joseph.” 

And he blushed and turned his head away, and a soft chuckle purred in Yami’s chest. 

“I mean… I hope so,” Joey murmured. “I can’t afford to fail those classes again.”

“Then you won’t,” Yami replied. “You can do anything you set your mind to, Joseph. If a man like you has the will and the determination, then all else will fall into place.” 

“You think so?” Joseph asked quietly, head down.

Yami gently reached out, delicately lifted that chin, and nudged his wing against Joseph’s back to push him out of his slouch. “I know so.” Joseph, physically, felt so delicate and small beneath his touch, but he could feel the resonance, the strength of Joseph’s heart and character. It thrummed like its own living entity, and Yami took a moment to bask in its warmth. “I know so, Joseph.”

He could hear Joseph gulp thickly, and those warm eyes blinked at him. His lips trembled, and then, on that face blossomed the brightest smile Yami had ever seen. 

“Well, I’m glad that I’ve got  _ one _ person that believes in me,” he said with a laugh.

Yami drew his hand back and smirked at his human companion. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure there are others.”

“You’re right. I’ve got Yug’ and Tristan. Tristan might be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but I know he’s got faith in me,” Joseph said, nodding to himself. 

“They should consider themselves lucky to have a friend like you. I know I do,” Yami said quietly, tipping his head back to look at the moon- and web-wreathed ceiling. 

Joseph did that sheepish chuckle again. Then he cleared his throat. He was probably going to change the subject to something that didn’t require Yami praising him so much. Yami laughed to himself and shook his head.

“I dunno if I told ya, Yami, but you’re my tutor now, if anyone asks,” Joseph said with an eyeroll, and he nudged Yami in the ribs with his elbow.

Yami snorted. “As if anyone will ask me.” Though he was curious. “How did that come about?”

“I don’t even know. I had to explain to Yugi why I was not gonna stay at his house last night, and then all of a sudden I have a tutor and he’s a security guard at a museum and his name is Yami,” Joseph ranted, though he grinned at Yami in genuine humor. “And that we got off on the wrong foot but we’re friends now.”

Yami laughed. “Well, at least half of that is true. I am a guard, my name is Yami, and we got off on the wrong foot but we’re friends now. Since I don’t know the material, I wouldn’t really say that I’m the best tutor the world has to offer, though.”

“I disagree,” Joseph said, lifting his shoulders. “Teachin’ you and reviewin’ the material with you has helped me a lot.”

“I’m glad my ignorance could be of some use to you,” Yami replied, voice thick with amusement. 

“Oh, all the help in the world, buddy,” Joseph laughed. 

“Do you have other subjects that you study?” Yami asked, back to serious inquiry, though a grin still graced his lips.

“Oh yeah. I got a math class, an economics class, that biology class, a gym class, an English class, and a Spanish class,” Joseph said, counting off each one on his fingers.

“You know two languages?” Yami was impressed.

That sheepish smile. “Yam’, I can barely put an English sentence together. Ya think I know Spanish? I’m failin’ that class, too.”

_ “Would you like help?” _ Yami asked, rather facetiously, in perfect European Spanish.

“Ummm… what?” Joseph asked, a little stunned.

“I can read and speak several languages, Joseph. Would you like my help?” Yami asked, tail lashing eagerly. Yes, he wanted to return the favor. Joseph had already taught him so much, it was the least he could do to give knowledge in return.

“Holy shit, yeah. That would be amazin’, Yami,” Joseph said, laughing giddily. “I mean, ya prolly don’t know Mexican Spanish, but like, any Spanish would be helpful.”

“It’s applicable,” Yami agreed.

“How many languages do ya know?” Joseph asked, eyes filled with wonder. 

Yami lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure. English, Spanish, Japanese, French, Italian, Gelic. Others I don’t know the names of, to be honest.”

“What’s your native language?” Joseph asked, eager. “I noticed ya got a bit of an accent, but I really can’t place it.”

“I…” Groping in the dark. It rested there, on the top of his tongue, in the back of his throat, on the lines of his lips, but it refused to move. A ghost, a spectre of a language, intangible. “I do not remember.” Was it even spoken anymore? Yami frowned. No, he had a feeling it wasn’t. Left as dust to drift away in the wind. What good would it have done him even if he could remember it?

“Ah man. That’s gotta suck,” Joseph muttered. “What do ya remember?”

Yami sighed. “That’s… quite the loaded question. I remember many things, but I do not know how much it is without knowing what I do not remember, if that makes any sort of sense.”

“I guess it kinda does. Like, ya don’t know what ya don’t know, so ya don’t know how much ya  _ do _ know in comparison.”

“Exactly!” Yami replied excitedly. “See, Joseph, you say you are not particularly intelligent, but you make sense of the nonsensical very easily.”

This time, Joseph grinned brightly. “Sure, Yam’, whatever ya say.”

* * *

That night, Joseph stayed much later than previous nights.

“I don’t have school tomorrow, so I don’t gotta get up early in the mornin’,” he had explained.

Some of it they spent discussing Spanish, some of it discussing his day at school and the friends that Yami found so very interesting to learn about, and some of it they spent reading through the cellular biology books together. 

The chilly night wind clawed at Yami’s hair and flesh, but still he scaled up the somber flanks of the church. He kept looking over his shoulder, watched as Joseph’s form grew smaller and smaller. He climbed as high as he could, and his keen, eagle-like vision stayed locked onto his friend until the darkness of the city swallowed him whole.

He waited there a few minutes more, as if Joseph would turn around and return to him, but he didn’t, so Yami climbed down to the belfry and swung inside.

He spent the rest of his night reading, and, every time he turned a page, he thought of Joseph.

* * *

Joey entered quietly.. Sure enough, his father was asleep on the recliner in the living room, the television casting its bluish light onto his open-mouthed, slacked form. The place didn’t reek of booze for once, which meant his dad had actually bothered to clean sometime during the day.

Joey gulped and toed his way to his room. It wouldn’t do to wake the man up. He didn’t want to know if there would be any repercussions for staying out late that night.

In the safety of his small room, he sighed and set his book down. He collapsed onto his twin-sized bed. Staying out that late was truly exhausting, but… it was worth it.

Yami was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that people complain about Joey’s father always being portrayed as an alcoholic… but… canonically, it’s true. Or, at least, the manga made it seem that way. Anywho, we’re getting into some more plotty stuff here, and I hope you guys enjoy the ride that awaits you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the obscene wait! I won’t make any excuses; I’ll just post this and hope that you enjoy it!

It was but an hour or so before dawn when’d he’d finally set the books to the side. Red eyes blinked widely in the dim. Behind them, his wind whirled with this new information. Awed, he stared down at his own arms, where, beneath, his cells were constantly at work to keep his body operational. 

When he turned to stone, did his cells cease all function? Almost like death, and then when the sun sank beneath the horizon, were they resurrected?

His tail twitched in thought, his thick nails thrumming on the stone ledge. 

Perhaps when Joseph returned the next night, Yami could divulge to him these burning thoughts. He glanced down, far, far down, where the fence, so like a wall, and the weeds, so like a prickly moat, kept the outside world at bay.

All except for Joseph.

He thought of how Joseph scaled that fence almost every night since the first they met. 

He frowned. That must be tiring, night after night. His huff was audible to no one but him. 

There was still time before dawn to do something about it.

* * *

It was but a bare hour after Joey had woken up that he was out of the apartment. His father was still asleep, so it was best that he got his shit down and headed for the hills before the man woke up in a hungover, cantankerous state. That was never pleasant for all parties involved. 

It was a nice warm day. There were enough clouds to keep it from being ungodly hot, while not enough to completely blot out the sun. Joey’s arms were crossed behind his head as he walked, and he sighed in content. He eyed a certain cloud. It was very pleasing, towering and puffy with all these intricate little billows and curls. It was fluffy and pure white on the top with a gray-blue underbelly.

Everything was looking so green. It had rained after he had gotten home the night before -- so it was definitely a good thing that he had left the church when he did -- and the plants were vibrant and lush now. 

The green of grass after a good rain and gentle sunshine was one of Joey’s favorite colors. 

He frowned. 

Green like this, so vivid and lurid, could not be seen in the pale light of the moon. It was only this verdant when the sun could shine down on it and bring it new life. 

Yami did not get to see shades of green this bright. 

Or vibrant shades of any color, he realized glumly. Colors were so dull at night. 

Yami had said that he remembered once being able to see the light of day. 

How long ago? When was the last time he had the privilege of seeing colors in all their splendor? 

He hoped that Yami’s eyesight was good enough to let him see color at least the slightest bit better in the dark than humans. 

But at least every night Yami could sit atop the church's spires and admire the city lights that twinkled like stars. Yeah, he could imagine Yami really liking that. 

Joey chuckled.

He was really looking forward to going back. Yami was fascinating and kind -- and just plain adorable. His naked wonder and curiosity, the excitedly lashing tail and glittering ruby eyes. And then how he seemed to be hell-bent on complimenting Joey whenever possible.

Joey had received compliments before, especially from Yugi, who was as kind as they came. 

But it was different coming from Yami. With that elegant face and sparkling eyes and earnest words… Joey blushed just thinking about it.

He gulped hard as shoved the thought to the darkest corners of his mind where he hoped he wouldn't stumble across it again. 

He sped up, hoped that he could get to Tristan's faster so that he could have a good distraction. But the more he tried to not think about it, the more he thought about it.

Yami was very handsome. For a gargoyle. His elegant, chiseled face and long, wild hair and like,  _ amazing _ physique. Even his little fangs were appealing, and the way they caught on his lips after he smiled and made a little snaggle-toothed grin was just fucking cute. 

Joey's cheeks were hot enough to cook an egg. 

"Shit," he groaned, pressing a hand to his face. 

He was attracted to a gargoyle. 

"No," he whimpered. Was he… some sort of deviant now? He knew he was attracted to both guys and girls, but he really had hoped that it would have limited itself to  _ human  _ guys and girls.

He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly.

Okay, okay, he could handle this. He'd been attracted to people before but managed to maintain friendships. It was only natural to  _ notice  _ when someone was particularly attractive, right?

He'd get over it. Joey would get over it.

* * *

“Hey, dumbass,” Joey greeted casually, slinging his arm over his buddy’s shoulder.

“Oh, it’s you, numbnuts,” Tristan replied back, shoving Joey’s arm off and snaking an arm around his neck to pin him in a choke-hold. “Just think, one twich and I could end this.”

“Yeah right,” Joey bit out, scrambling at the other’s forearm. “Like ya have the strength.”

“I distinctly remember kicking your ass several times,” Tristan said ponderously, and his bicep clenched threateningly.

“I was… goin’ easy on… y-ya…” Joey choked. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure,” Tristan replied, sarcastically bright.

“If ya don’t let go, imma fuckin’ bite ya, Tris’,” Joey warned, and ducked his head down to prove the point. Just as his teeth were about to sink into Tristan’s forearm, Tristan was releasing him.

“Ugh, no, I don’t know where your mouth has been,” Tristan grumbled, grimacing.

Joey scoffed. “It’s prolly a lot cleaner than yours! I just brushed my teeth!”

“So you actually brush your teeth? One of the great mysteries, solved.”

“Keep talkin’ shit and ya won’t  _ have _ any teeth, ya bastard,” Joey snapped, adjusting his clothes.

They both sneered at each other for a couple more seconds before breaking down into grins and chuckles. 

“So, got any plans that need crashin’ today, man?” Joey asked, leaning on the alleyway wall. He had ambushed his friend when Tristan was taking out the trash. 

Joey didn’t often notice the differences between his life and that of his friends. For instance, Tristan was probably taking the trash out after his mother had nagged at him incessantly for it. Joey, meanwhile, ended up taking out the trash because no one else would do it and he’d get tired of the apartment smelling like literal garbage. 

“Eh, just work,” Tristan commented, waving for Joey to follow him as he walked back to the house. It was a small duplex. He, his brother, and his parents lived in the left one. The right one was occupied by some crazy old lady with a strange fondness for garden gnomes. 

Only in Domino. 

“Man, that sucks,” Joey responded. Inside, he was thinking about how he needed to get another job. He’d been one of the first to get laid off at the factory -- with his high school schedule that needed to be worked around, he’d simply been one of the less valuable employees there. Not to mention being a minor put a damper on his legal capabilities, anyway. 

Someone had to pay the bills, and he couldn’t handle swallowing his pride and asking his mother for more money. 

“Why don’t you ask Yugi to hang out?” Tristan offered.

“Nah, man. The game shop’s got this sale goin’ on and I would just get in the way.”

“... Tea?”

“Man, I love Tea and all, but every time we get one-on-one time I swear she ends up throat-choppin’ me.”

“Well, you do say a lot of dumb shit that earns you a good throat chopping,” Tristan said, chortling as he opened the door and stepped inside. 

“Ya might be right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Joey responded with his own chuckle.

“What about your tutor?” Tristan asked. 

“Not available at this time of day,” Joey said with a sigh.

Which really sucked. It would be totally lit to hang out with Yami all day and night. 

“Well, you’re screwed. Congratulations on having a boring, lonely day.” 

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a borin’ fuckin’ day,” Joey huffed. Oh well. He might as well go sniffing out a new job, then. “I’ll see ya later, douchenozzle.”

Tristan grumbled a reply under his breath, then quickly called back, “Hey, I should be free tomorrow, if you wanna hang out then!”

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Joey frowned down at the piece of paper, and, chewing his lip, looked about at his surroundings. The kitchen was loud, even from where he was sitting, and a family of two adults and four boisterous kids were making quite the ruckus in the main dining room.

“Dammit,” he hissed to himself, dragging a hand through his hair. He really didn’t want to work in fast food service. He’d be making a fraction of what he was getting at the factory. And he’d heard some pretty crappy things about the food industry from Tea. She was working at the Burger World just down the street from the high school. 

This restaurant was a bit closer to home. It was still in the… shadier parts of town, so that was a bit of a downer.

Joey sighed. Things had been pretty good at the factory, all things considering. He thought that it was a great first job experience, and a good-paying one, too. 

But beggers can’t be choosers, he supposed sourly. 

With a sigh, he filled in the rest of the application. 

Grocery stores, fast food restaurants, and then he happened upon it.

The Domino Public Library. 

He paused on the sidewalk and stared at the fading, rain-stained sign. 

He frowned. He didn’t even know what it would take to work at a library. Did he need to have some sort of education…?

He shrugged to himself. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to find out. He marched quickly up the steps and through the old wooden doors. 

He’d noticed all the windows from outside, but it felt different on the inside.

Warm, natural light lit up the inside, and though the linoleum of the floor was cracked and stained with age, it was clean and glossed with well-buffed care. The vestibule was home to a pair of gender-segregated restrooms and a rolling shelf stacked with second-hand cookie-cutter romance novels for sale. Twenty-five cents for each. 

Joey snorted and walked up to the shelf and plucked a random book. A buff, well-oiled guy with long dark hair and a woman in a wispy white robe all but swooning into his defined arms. He chuckled again and set the book back into its place and took another one off. It was the same cover but with different people and a different title. 

He remembered his mother reading these things religiously. She probably still did.

He imagined buying one for Yami. 

He laughed to himself and shook his head. He slid the book back into the empty slot. 

Yami would probably be thankful and wouldn’t even realize that Joey had just handed him actual garbage to read. 

He turned away from the Rack of Softcore Porn for Women and ambled through the inner double doors into the main part of the library. 

The librarian at the desk, an older woman with a round, glowing face, beamed up at him as soon as he made eye contact. He mosied over.

“Hello,” she greeted, eyes sparkling with earnestness. Joey immediately liked her. “How can I help you today?”

“Uh… I was wonderin’ if you were accepting job applications…?” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

She practically bolted from her seat to dig into a file cabinet and hand him a slip of paper. 

“We definitely are!”

“Huh, thanks,” he murmured. “Got a pen I can borrow?”

“Of course!”

* * *

He’d applied to damn near every small business this side of Domino City by the time he noticed that dusk was fast approaching. He grinned up at the darkening sky. Yami would be awake within the hour!

He was speed-walking to that side of town when his gut clenched and growled angrily. “Ah shit.”

He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which was just some almost-stale bread that he’d stuffed in his mouth on his way out of the apartment that morning. He had a wrinkled five dollar bill and some loose change in his pocket, so he stopped at a fast food restaurant on the way and bought some burgers off their dollar menu. 

\-- He couldn’t actively remember a time that he  _ didn’t _ order something off the dollar menu --

With his warm bag of greasy meat patties stuffed between probably-crushed buns, he trotted off to the abandoned sector of Domino City. When the church came within sight in the half-red light of dusk, Joey noticed something strange.

Part of the chain link fence -- not on the side that faced the road, but the side that faced an abandoned parking lot of a likewise derelict warehouse -- was now covered by a wooden pallet. Not too strange -- wooden pallets were of course very common in warehouses, abandoned or otherwise, but Joey had been coming to this place for nearly a week straight, and he’d  _ never _ seen that there before. He looked about cautiously for any sign of another human being before he veered off the sidewalk and approached. 

With his take-out bag tucked safely beneath one arm, he reached out and touched the warped wood of the pallet. It was dry, worn. He pulled it away from the fence.

The chain links were torn. Not cut, not clipped. Torn, as if huge claws had raked and tugged until the rusted metal snapped and crumbled. 

He laughed. 

Yami’d made him a little entryway. 

He ducked beneath. This way, he wasn’t landing right on top of a pokey piled of dead weeds, but they still caught on his faded jeans as he waded through them, though it wasn’t as bad as getting some of them jammed up his pantleg.

It was very dark in the stairwell, but his eyes had long since adjusted to the relative darkness, and the ascent to Yami’s roost was quick and uneventful. Before he reached it, he could hear shuffling in the storeroom. Yami must have just awakened.

He leaned to look around the edge of the doorway.

Yami was standing, so tall and proud, wings folded at his back -- their tips nearly brushing the floor in their relaxed state. His tail flicked back and forth languidly behind him, and he looked over his shoulder from where he was sorting through the books and smiled, fangs glinting in the low light. 

“Hello, Joseph,” he greeted, red eyes sparkling delightedly.

Joey’s gulp nearly got stuck in his throat. “Hey there, Yami.” He smiled back, genuine and warm. “Thanks for the hole in the fence. That was a lot more convenient than climbin’ over.”

Yami turned to face him, one arm remaining resting on the books on the shelf. In that position, the shape of his bicep was that much more recognizable, that much more appealling, and Joey forcibly tore his eyes away. 

“I thought it would be. It suddenly occurred to me that climbing over it was probably exhausting, and that every time there was a risk that you would injure yourself.” His grin turned decidedly sheepish. “I would be very upset if you got hurt over something I could have readily prevented.”

Joey shrugged, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d honestly be more worried over gettin’ tetanus than, like, breakin’ a leg or something.”

“Tetanus?” Yami asked. “What is that?”

Joey’s arms lowered, and he was sure he was staring blankly back at Yami. “Um… I’m… not sure, actually.”

Yami chuckled. “You’re worried about contracting it, but you don’t know what it is.”

Joey shrugged, his cheeks heating up. “I just know that you get it from like, cuts and stuff.”

Yami hummed, shaking his head and smiling, and then his eyes settled on Joey again. His gaze drifted to the bag under his arm. 

Joey started, suddenly  _ remembering _ his food and his growling stomach. “I uh, brought myself dinner. You’re more than welcome to try some, if you’d like.”

Joey  _ knew _ that curious spark as Yami stepped closer. “You brought food.”

Joey nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten the chance to eat anything since breakfast, so I stopped at a fast food place before I got here.”

Yami was fit to burst with questions, but his broad shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “Why weren’t you able to eat?”

“I was runnin’ around applyin’ for jobs and stuff. I used to work at a factory, but they had some budget cuts or something and I got laid off.”

“You worked and went to school at the same time?” Yami asked. “That sounds like too much. In fact, it probably is. I don’t think your work was helping your grades at all.”

Joey shrugged, but he knew Yami was right. “Prolly not, but  _ somebody’s _ gotta provide for me.”

“You need to provide for yourself?” Yami seemed genuinely concerned, now, lips turning down.

“It’s whatever,” Joey dismissed. He really didn’t want to get into the topic of his father right at that moment.

Yami, sensing that the subject was closed for discussion, moved onto a different line of conversation. “What is a fast food restaurant, exactly?”

“Oh, well, it’s kinda just what it sounds like. I mean, it’s a place where they make food really quick. It’s not like the healthiest stuff ever, but it’s fast, cheap, and fillin’.”

Yami hummed. “I don’t want to eat your food if it’s all you have,” he replied, quietly.

Joey gulped hard. “I mean, I got four burgers. You can at least  _ try _ a bite, okay? It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Yami pursed his lips -- rather cutely for an intimidating gargoyle. But he nodded.

* * *

Yami loved to look out over the city, to watch those glittering lights from his perch. They were almost as beautiful as the stars. Almost.

But now he watched curiously as Joseph unwrapped his ‘burger’ from what seemed to be wax paper. They were sitting on his perch, their legs dangling over the edge. Yami flexed his clawed toes in the thin air. It was strange. He’d never sat like this before. He swung his legs back and forth absentmindedly and enjoyed the free momentum. It was enjoyable, though. 

“A ‘burger,’ you called it?” Yami asked, leaning closer, his tail twitching.

“Yeah. It’s like a sandwich. Actually, it literally  _ is _ a type of sandwich. A ground meat patty between two pieces of bread. There’s, pickles, ketchup, and mustard, too. Sometimes, people put cheese on them and call them ‘cheeseburgers’ -- creative, amiright? -- but a lot of places charge more for cheese so I just got them without.”

“It smells strange,” Yami commented, sniffing. “Not unpleasant, though, I suppose.”

Joseph lifted it from the wrapper on his lap, and Yami snatched the paper up when it threatened to flutter away on the wind. 

“Oh, thanks, man.”

But Yami didn’t respond, only eyed the sandwich in Joseph’s hands. It really didn’t look all that impressive.

Joseph laughed at his expression. “Yeah, it’s a little squashed. And it’s honestly not the  _ best _ example of a burger. Like I said, it was made fast and it was cheap. Can’t really expect much quality when you only pay a dollar.”

“I can’t say I have the best frame of reference when it comes to modern currency,” Yami admitted. 

Joseph shrugged. “It’s pretty cheap, basically. Most people have at least a dollar.”

Yami hummed. He’d take Joseph’s word on it.

Joseph extended his hands. “C’mon, try a bite, Yam’.”

Yami leaned down and sniffed it. His tail thumped and his toes flexed. Such an alien smell.

Joseph laughed. “It’s not gonna bite you back, dude.”

“I didn’t fear so,” Yami replied, in a exasperated tone, but he grinned and gently nudged Joseph with his wing. He cautiously took a bite right off the edge. He chewed slowly, tail curling and uncurling. 

“I mean, it’s prolly better hot, and, really, it’s sad that  _ this _ is your first burger, but it’s really all I can offer ya,” Joseph babbled, before he took a deep breath and asked, “Anyway, how’s it taste?”

Yami swallowed. “... Strange.” It was acidic yet greasy and there was definitely something crunchy in there. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, “But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.”

Joseph chuckled. “Yeah, ya prolly haven’t eaten something so greasy before, too.”

“I don’t think I have,” Yami agreed. He was certain he’d remember something tasting like  _ that _ . “Do you like them?”

“Burgers? Yeah. These burgers?” He shrugged. “Meh. Better than nothing.” And he proceeded to eat with rapacious enthusiasm despite his supposed feelings toward the sandwiches.

But Yami supposed Joseph must truly be hungry, if he hadn’t eaten in so long.

It only took ten or fifteen minutes for Joseph to devour all four burgers. Yami, meanwhile, gathered up the wrappers before they could get torn away by the wind and balled them up before tossing them back through the window. He’d dispose of them later.

“I’ve got a couple questions for ya, Yam’,” Joseph said once he was finished eating.

“Ask away.”

“I mean, we haven’t known each other all that long, but I’ve never seen ya leave, and I’ve never heard ya talkin’ ‘bout leavin’ this place. But I know that pallet ya put over the hole in the fence came from the warehouse. How often do ya leave?”

His sigh came from deep within, deeper than flesh and blood. “Not as often as I like. In fact, leaving at all is a very hard thing to do.” At Joseph’s confused expression, Yami went on to explain further. “There is… a barrier…” Yami explained, gesticulating vaguely. “It’s not physical, like the fence. I am always drawn back here. The farther I go and the longer I stay out, the stronger the urge to return becomes. It gets to a point where I can think of nothing else but coming back. As if this place is in grave danger if I am not here to protect it.” He turned his head to look out over the city. “Though I doubt it’s in any danger at all.”

Joseph’s eyes were wide with amazement. “So, it’s like magic, almost? Seems like some mind-control shit I’d read ‘bout in a fantasy book.”

Yami hummed. He’d thought as much before, too. “It just might be. They… certainly don’t  _ seem _ like thoughts I would or should have, even while I’m having them.”

“I mean, ya said before that ya remember goin’ out in the day time,” Joseph reasoned, “and I think if gargoyles were things that existed on their own naturally, the whole world would know about ‘em, right? So, I guess I’m sayin’ that I think ya once were a human and then something  _ turned  _ ya into what ya are now…” Joseph scratched his head and looked up at the night sky thoughtfully. “I get I’ve been gettin’ ya into all this sciencey stuff, but I really do think there’s some things that science can’t explain and this might be one of them.”

Yami leaned back on his palms, and tilted his head to look again at his companion. “I agree. I think that once, I was like you.” He turned back to stare at nothing in particular, yet everything at once. “Though I haven’t the faintest how I’ve come to be this way.”

Joseph hummed. “Well, onto a less serious question, I guess…”

Yami chuckled, “Yes?”

“I mean, what do ya eat around here? If you can’t leave?” Joseph asked, swinging his legs.

“I don’t eat much. I don’t require much food, as a matter of fact,” Yami said. “I’ve done several experiments over the years, and I believe exposure to sunlight has much to do with it.”

“Whattaya mean?”

“Well, on days that I am outside when I recede into torpor, I awaken feeling refreshed, rejuvenated. Those days I need to eat little, if at all. But there have been times when I turned to stone while within the walls of the church, and the nights after I awaken groggy and, well, hungry.”

“Holy shit, you’re like a plant,” Joseph exclaimed. 

Yami laughed, something deep from his belly that made him ache. “Photosynthesis! I just read about it!”

“That’s fuckin’ crazy!”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing, but the similarity is amusing,” Yami added, mostly to himself.

If his cells turned to stone during the day, how would they even perform photosynthesis? Also, the chemical ‘chlorophyll’ that allows photosynthesis to happen is green, and Yami is not green.

“What color am I when I am stone?” Yami asked, and Joseph blinked at him.

“Well, you’re gray. Just gray.”

“Hmm.” Then it wasn’t photosynthesis. His tail curled, fascinated. Perhaps it was another thing that science couldn’t explain -- maybe it was just magic. 

“But ya do eat, sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you get the food? I mean, there isn’t much here for ya to eat, y’know?”

“I have a garden. I don’t eat much, so it is often for leisure, but I have several plants that bear fruits and vegetables.”

The expression on Joey’s face was one of complete bafflement. “Where on earth do ya have a garden?”

Yami smirked and pointed with a single claw. “Up on the roof. There’s a flat space. Would you like to see it?”

“Yeah, I would, actually.”

“The staircase that leads there… is not safe. I can’t promise your safety if you decide to use it,” Yami said apologetically.

“Well, ya make it sound like there’s another option.”

“There is. I normally climb there. I can carry you up there on my back,” Yami explained. 

In all honesty, carrying Joseph on his chest would probably be the safer course of action, but the thought of Joseph pressed chest-to-chest with him, legs and arms wrapped around Yami’s body, made Yami’s cheeks heat up uncomfortably. 

“That sounds like a blast!” Joseph shouted, and he shot to his feet. “Let’s do it! I’m honestly  _ so _ jealous of how ya climb all over this place like a damn gecko.”

Yami could only laugh. “What even  _ is _ a gecko?”

“They’re little lizards, and they got sticky feet that let them climb over anythin’.”

Yami shook his head and chuckled, he stood, only to crouch in front of Joseph, back to him. “We’ll leave from here.”

There was just enough space between his wings for Joseph to fit comfortably, chest to Yami’s back, arms looped around his shoulders and legs hooked around his waist. Yami stood slowly, fluidly, wings and tails adjusting to balance the additional weight. 

“I’m not chokin’ ya, am I?” Joseph asked, and his breath was wafting right against Yami’s ear. 

“No,” Yami said after he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Hold on tight.”

And Joseph did, but he still gasped when Yami leapt up. It was strange with the additional weight, but he managed to snag his claws into the brick and launch himself onto the roof. The roof of the storage room was but a conical cap, and Yami careful climbed onto a steeply-slanted buttress, on all fours for balance, wings slightly spread.

“Woah,” Joseph muttered. “Steep.”

Yami hummed, and they reached a spire with thick serrations, perfect for vertical climbing. 

“I’ve said somethin’ ‘bout it before, but ya really freakin’ warm, Yami,” Joseph said, quiet, a little shaky with nervousness. 

“Hold on. I’m going to jump,” Yami warned. 

And then Joseph was practically constricting him, and Yami leapt sideways onto the curve of the uppermost roof of the church. This was where the ceilings were vaulted in the chapel, so it started steep but flattened out the higher Yami scaled. Eventually, he could walk upright, and they were on the flattest part of the roof. 

“There isn’t much else to climb, if you would prefer to walk there on your own from this point,” Yami noted, but he kept walking, content with his passenger.

“I’m a total klutz and I don’t feel like dyin’ today. I’ll stay here,” Joseph said after a pause. 

Yami chuckled, striding easily toward the front of the church, where the cross-topped belfry still stood high about them. Below it was a small terrace, invisible from in front of the church due to a stone wall blocking it from sight. An ornate carved fence surrounded it, and Yami easily hopped over it. 

He crouched down and Joseph slid off his back. 

“Oh, wow,” Joseph breathed. Built-in planters -- ornately carved like the rest of the building, sat in neat, artful rows. Green spilled over the edges of some. Joseph stepped forward and touched a young tomato, pale in the moonlight. “Looks like you take really good care of them.”

“I do,” Yami agreed. “Some of the gargoyles feed water away from the church to preserve the architecture, and I place buckets to gather water to store away for drier times.”

“What do you do during the winter?”

“I preserve many of the fruits and vegetables, and I gather the seeds to store away until the spring, when I can plant again. The stalks and the bodies of the plants I let rot to nourish the soil. I do the same with some of the fruits.”

“This is really neat, Yami,” Joseph said, smiling, walking between the rows and the planters and admiring all the plants. 

“I had some trouble at first, I’ll admit. I wasn’t sure were the sunniest parts were, or the parts that are shadows all day around. After all, I’ve never seen this place when the sun is up and casting shadows.” He stepped forward and cupped a vivacious leave in his palm. “But, through trial and error, I managed, and I found the right places to put certain plants.”

“How’d ya get the seeds in the first place?” Joseph asked. “I mean, ya had to get them some way.”

“I haven’t always been here by myself,” Yami said, quiet, and watched Joseph turn to stare at him with wide eyes. “There was a man who had bought this place. He was a priest. Or, he used to be. Though he never opened it for services, he would come at night to bring me food and company.” He smiled wistfully, gratefully. “Much like you do.”

Joseph nodded, slow. “What happened to him?”

Yami sighed. It still saddened him to think about it. “He was old. One night he left and simply never came back.”

“Oh,” was Joseph’s response, and Yami couldn’t blame him.

“I still think about him sometimes. I wonder if he died peacefully, if he was surrounded by friends and family when he passed. I hope that it was painless for him, that he fell asleep and just never woke up. He was a kind man that deserved a good death,” Yami finished quietly. 

“Ya cared about him a lot,” Joseph said, stepping close to put a comforting hand on Yami’s shoulder.

“I did,” Yami replied, watching how the moonlight washed Joseph’s irises silver. “But it was a long time ago.”

“I hope he died peacefully, too,” Joseph added, though he frowned a bit. “Though the thought of dyin’ in my sleep is pretty fuckin’ scary.”

Yami hummed, looking down. “I fear it, too. That some time, the sun will set but I will remain stone, unmoving, stuck at my perch in eternal rest, with no one to know any differently.”

“ _ I _ would know,” Joseph insisted, lightly shaking Yami from where he was still gripping his shoulder. “I’d know, Yami.”

Those eyes burned with a determined fire, and Yami couldn’t look away. “You… you would.”

“Damn straight, I would! I’d come up here and bang around some pots and pans until ya woke your ass up! I don’t care how long it would take!”

Yami laughed then, chin falling. 

He wished then that everyone had a friend like Joseph.


End file.
